


For Good

by GuardianofFun



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Freya/Merlin past relationship, Hurt Merlin, M/M, Merlin sort of has the hots for Arthur, Merlin wump, Multi, Pining Merlin, Torture, Unrequited Crush, bringing the dead back, hints of Merlin/Arthur, semi permenant death, the afterlife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2018-04-21 03:42:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4813664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuardianofFun/pseuds/GuardianofFun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur saves Merlin again and again, and Merlin saves Arthur too. A continuous cycle that becomes almost too commonplace, until this time, when Merlin's heart gives out, it gives out for good. Merlin finds there is something after this world and now is faced with the choice - return to the brokenhearted King, mourning Queen and those he loves in Camelot or discover what awaits him in the realm beyond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In The Lion's Den

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A WARNING FOR YOU GUYS STARTING THIS NOW
> 
> I started this as a selfish Merlin whump fic and it turned into a whole story? It's long and winding, and I don't update regularly because life is busy - but this has not been abandoned and if it ever is (which I doubt, I'm almost finished as of December 15th 2016) I will let you know! 
> 
> So I hope you enjoy this, have fun! <3
> 
> ///
> 
> update; as of 2018! i finished!! finally!! it's been a stupid long time but I finally finished this fic. by now it's one of my oldest and as such I know it's not my best stuff? but im glad to have finished it and brought it to a close. thanks for stopping by, I hope you enjoy <3

Merlin's sapphire eyes blink open and quickly fall shut against the pain opening them brings. He feels it pooling right _there_ , where usually he feels the pleasant tingle of his magic, there's an aching throb. It’s not at all helped by the rest of the pain that he is in- his chest is sore, there's a fire burning in his left arm and he's pretty sure the dull pain in his ankle indicates some form of serious damage. None of it is made any better by the fact he's chained to the wall, arms up above his head. He glances up once the throb subsides, and sure enough, the left one is sitting at an odd angle. Broken. Great. 

He can't remember where he is, when it is, or anything at all really. Flickers of memories come back - a wind so strong he was thrown from his horse, a laugh that turned his blood cold, and then a scream that he thinks was his as something hit him square in the face.

Then all of a sudden, there's the sound of a door opening, and suddenly a world previously encompassed in silence is broken by the spine tingling cry that shakes Merlin out the pain-induced haze of half formed memories that he's in.

"Merlin!" That warm, familiar voice is hoarse, but it’s Arthur's, and Merlin smiles at that - Arthur isn't dead - which is good. But then he sees the King being lead in, and the shackles around his wrists and ankles and the lack of armour of any kind around him. He sees the hands pulling on the chain too, the pale hands of the Lady Morgana- or was it High Priestess now? It was all rather muddled for him right now, but either way, every part of Merlin screamed to be away from the woman who had been trying to kill him in the slowest way possible.

Morgana silences Arthur with a hard tug on the chains, securing him in place against the wall opposite Merlin. He opens his mouth again

"Merlin, can you hear me? Merlin?!" The warlock peers across the room, the dim lighting and his hovering headache not helping the feeling of nausea that has begun churning his stomach. Arthur is strung up in a way not too dissimilar to him. He grins over at the King, glad at least that all Arthur's limbs are in place.

"Course I can, you prat, no need to shout," he calls, and Arthur's response sounds more like a sob than the laugh he had been aiming for. How Merlin can joke at a time like this astounded him. Then there was a loud thud, the sound of skin on skin as Morgana slaps the weakest of smiles from Arthur's face. Merlin flinched, but it was more of a feeble twitch, his sore body unable to thrash too much against the icy steel of his shackles. 

"Silence, boy," Morgana sneers, turning to face the warlock. Merlin wonders if he should just give in, whisper a few words and break his shackles - but Arthur is looking at him, far too sharply for anything of the sort to go unnoticed. He isn't sure freedom is worth the price he will pay, his heart pounding like it always does when he tries to breech the topic. He's too scared to admit it anyway. Morgana's hand slips up under his shirt, hovering over his chest, where his heart is. It beats quickly under her cold hand, and she smirks. "You should be afraid, you're in for a treat," she says, rolling the word ‘treat’ around as if it's a sweet. Merlin looks back, and his jaw is tightening. "I am not afraid of you," he says. 

Morgana laughs, her nails scratching at the pale flesh of his stomach now. "Well it seems your King isn't going to tell me what I want, so I'll just use you instead-" Merlin lets out a rough bark of a laugh. "As if I'd tell you anything," he says, and his eyes don't flicker to Arthur, Arthur who knows where this is going, who just put two and two together. 

"You don't have to," she says simply. Her hand curls into a fist and she sends it flying into Merlin's gut. Suddenly everything clicks for Merlin too, and he realises too late that Morgana's got a knife in her hand. It's embedded in his stomach seconds later and he lets out a choked scream. 

“I don’t even expect you,” she snarls “To know who Emrys is, you pathetic serving boy!” but Merlin can’t hear the venom in her voice, or her words at all for that matter. The blood is warm on his skin, warm and thick and wet and - there's so much. Should there be that much? Then he realises she has the knife again and this time it's higher, and he takes a desperate breath before she hits again, and again, and then once more before throwing the blade across the floor. Merlin can't see through the tears that have formed, but he can hear - Arthur. 

How one word can carry so much weight he has no idea - how one word can spell out a bond stronger than friendship, brotherhood or even love.   

Arthur screams his name, and Merlin can't bear the sadness in it. In a rushed and garbled tongue, he spits out spells that sends Morgana flying, and the shackles shatter. In almost an instant, Arthur is at his side, by which time Merlin's hands are wrapped around himself, the pain searing through him making the tears flow faster. Arthur says something, but Merlin can't hear over his own, pounding heart beat. Then he's up, lifted in those warm arms, pressed tight against the King's chest. They move, fast, for who knows how long before Arthur skids to a halt. 

"Merlin?" 

There it is again, that heavy word, the one that says so much more than words can. That word that says 'No Merlin, you're not dying today,'

Merlin gasps and the word becomes slightly more clear. Arthur's hands are on his stomach, covering his own pale fingers. The sound of magic hovers over him, ready and waiting to do something, Merlin knows if he is to survive he has to do something but Arthur is here, Arthur will see - but Arthur already has seen, and now his head is close, so close they're brow to brow, Arthur's nose grazing his own. Such pretty blue eyes the King has, Merlin thinks, something he doesn’t mind being his last sight. Then Arthur’s blood stained hand comes up to rest on his cheek, and Merlin realises his head has become unbearably heavy and he falls against it. 

"Merlin, I don't care, just do something, just fix this, because I swear on my Kingdom, Merlin - you're not dying, I won’t let you, - Merlin, _please!_ " comes the raw, real pleas of the terrified King. So Merlin takes a long breath, and his fingers grasp at Arthur’s chest, pulling him as close as he can, and then Merlin breathes out.

Magic shoots through them, gold and shinning and when it recoils back into Merlin, they lie on the steps of Camelot. 

Arthur ignores the gasps and hoists Merlin once more, his only goal to reach Gaius in time. 

Merlin watches it all from somewhere other than himself. He watches Arthur run, a limp body in his arms and ruby red splattering the floor. He reaches out with his magic, one last ray, in the hopes that Arthur will stop crying. Arthur is not allowed to be so sad, and certainly not over the death of a servant. As the blinding light closes in around him one last time, for once, Merlin hopes they open to pain.


	2. Ghost of a Chance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two! This perspective is all a little weird here, I do hope it still makes sense...

When Merlin can see once again - and he isn't sure when that happened, he just did, as if he had this whole time - he was not there. Well he was, his body lay on the hastily cleared table. Yet he could see, as though through another's eyes. It was if he did not exist, he just watched. It was unusual - he couldn't move so much as he thought about being closer and just was. 

Something about the scene was off though. Other than his not being in his body, of course. His body, pale and ghostlike. His fingers limply hanging from the table, not even a whisper of movement. With his shirt pulled from his body, neckerchief still caught - bright blue against his throat - his torso is the only colour. Ruby red, turning a darker, dirtier shade as time passes and the blood dries, soaking him. It runs, still, in slow trickles over the table, dropping slowly onto the floor. 

Arthur stands over his head, hands clenched into fists either side of Merlin's face. Gaius sits defeated in a chair by his dangling fingers. It is silent. 

If he had need of breath, Merlin would be holding his. He watches the two men, Gaius with eyes filled with pain, and Arthur with his jaw set hard. There are tears filling the Kings eyes though he doesn't allow them to fall yet.

"So that's it?" He asks. Gaius' eyes shift to look at Arthur, who only has eyes for the still manservant. 

"I... Yes," he says simply. 

More silence, and then a small cry from the King. His knees buckle under him, his head resting on the table as the tears finally fall. At first they fall silently, the same as Gaius' - who stares out of the window wondering how to tell Hunith what has happened. But then they become quiet, muffled cries that he cannot keep from escaping, and that word, that word again sounding so broken and awful.

“Merlin…”

Then the door creaks open, and Gwen falls through the door;

"I heard you were ba-" and the last of her words are cut of in a scream that Merlin isn't sure he'll ever forget. She takes the few steps to the table, a trembling hand reaching for Merlin's face. 

Gwen may be Queen now, with duties to her King, but before anything else she was a maid, and Merlin's friend. Arthur doesn't even move, as her gentle touch brushes the tousled hair from Merlin's too pale face. The room is filled with grief, and it stays that way for an some time.

Eventually, Arthur looks up, tears dried on his cheeks, and takes Gwen in his arms, pressing a kiss to her head. Gaius looks up, giving them a small smile. 

"If you will excuse me sire, I believe I have a letter I must write," he says softly, and Arthur nods. 

"Of course. I must... Notify Gwaine," he replies, causing Gwen to look up at him. 

"He's not returned yet, none of the knights have," she begins, and Arthur's brows raise. She gives a small wave of her hand as she explains "As soon as they discovered you had continued searching; without them-" her eyes fill with tears again, and her voice wavers. "You were gone, they were insistent on sending out a search party, Gwaine most of all. They've yet to return," she finishes, her voice becoming nothing more than a quiet whisper. Arthur nods again, though he doesn't know why. At a loss for what to do, he runs a hand across his face and takes a deep breath. 

"Then... I shall make... Arrangements," he says, and ducks from his Queen's arms to walk hastily from his room. Gwen glances at Gaius, and throws herself into his arms. Merlin cannot help but notice the scene is similar to one he has seen before - when he awoke after being poisoned, many years ago now. He wishes to break the awful mood once more with some throwaway joke, but finds he has cannot make a sound. Gwen must be thinking of the same night, because she speaks into Gaius' shoulder. 

"I can't help but hope he wakes again Gaius. What are we going to do without him?" She asks, and Gaius shrugs, looking older than Merlin has ever remembered. 

"I have no idea, my lady. No idea..."

They stand for a moment or two, finding small comfort in each other, when the sound of crashing raises both their heads. Gwen's eyes look up, and she shakes her head. 

"Arthur," she says, and Gaius places his hands on her shoulders. "Go, comfort him," he insists. 

"Though before you go," he adds, before rummaging through his boxes and holding out a small vial.  "Arthur is injured too. This will help the pain. I can treat him-" His eyes land on his prone apprentice. "Later. But let him grieve first."  The Queen nods, and Merlin wishes more than anything that he could take her hand and apologise, just say- 

" _I'm sorry Gwen_!" 

Both Gwen and Gaius start. That voice, most undoubtedly Merlin’s voice echoes through the room. Yet it left Gwen's lips, leaving her lips parted in a half formed yelp. Even Merlin is confused by the sudden words, but he's not going to let the moment slip by, not if he has a voice through Gwen - again,  he thinks of himself, body intact and speaking to Gwen as though they’re discussing the weather.

" _It's magic. I cast a spell and it-_ " but the image fades from his mind, leaving his reeling for a moment - the world swims in and out of focus. He has to tell them though, one more time at least. Images of himself grasping Gwen and spilling his secrets out in one rush so he can say 

" _I'm here. I can talk but it's hard. Don't be sad. Please, don't forget-_ " and as the world heaves and all that surrounds him fills with darkness, his last words echo in his mind. 

_ I love you all _

 

Silence once again filled the room, but the old man's eyes slide from watching Gwen to the body on the table. Then back to Gwen, who has her hand to her throat, as if trying to work out what had happened. Her hoarse whisper breaks the silence.

"Was that- I didn’t say- was it... Merlin?" She asks, her heart and stomach worKing in horrid unison to fill her with the oddest sensation - doubt, hope, relief and grief all in one ball of emotions, leaving her an uneasy, trembling figure. 

"I believe, my lady, that it was," Gaius replies, the faintest of smiles hiding at the corners of his lips. "I have heard of magic that can keep a soul after death, keep it present. A ghost almost, I suppose - perhaps Merlin found something of the sort. Perhaps if he is not fully gone from this world, then he is not completely lost to us." He takes the queen’s hand once more, and squeezes it gently. 

Gaius took another look at his young friend’s body, shaking his head gently. Of course, he should have known Merlin would never stay dead for long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically he's a ghost now, yeah? At least, I hope you thought that - and that you enjoyed it! I have part three just needing another read over, and four is almost written too!


	3. Beyond the Veil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just because I forgot to mention it anywhere else at all - Lancelot is dead. That's kinda a key thing here, whoops! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this part!

Merlin suddenly has weight again, and then there's the feeling of something clutching his hands. He freezes, aware of the odd sensation in his chest, of holding a breath that he has little need of releasing. It just sits in his chest, waiting; like drowning there’s a pressure in his chest but the expected end never comes. Then a hand-shaped, more real pressure appears on top of it.

"It's alright Merlin, just relax," a voice says.  A warm, happy voice that makes Merlin want to reach out and hug the source. He feels his muscles unfurl, his fingers loosen their tightly balled grip, head sinking back into the soft grass he feels beneath him and his eyes flicker open. He is rewarded with the sight he has longed to see again. 

Lancelot, handsome as ever, hovers above him with a grin on his face. Merlin blinks a few more times and lets a smile find his own lips. “Lancelot!” he all but yells, pushing himself up to sit next to the crouched knight. Both faces are alight as Merlin watches his friend, and his healthy, happy, smiling face. “Good to see you too Merlin” The two watch each other for a few moments, hungrily taking in the sight of each other. Merlin marvels at how healthy and happy Lancelot looks. It makes him wonder just what is going on here.

"Lancelot?" He asks, tugging at his unusually clean tunic. The knight nods, rocking back on his heels and pulls Merlin up by the arm. "Yes, Merlin?" he replies as the two  stand in the empty field. 

The warlock glances around them, at the never-ending expanse of a meadow. The sky is crystal clear above them, and a soft breeze wraps its way around them. Lancelot himself is wearing only a simple outfit - breeches and a clean white shirt. Merlin takes another breath, and Lancelot gives a small chuckle, as though he understands the oddity of needing to think about such mundane things. 

"Am I... Dead?" He asks, and with the last of what breath he has held in his chest, he lets out an almost hysterical laugh. 

Lancelot's face falls slightly, and he places a hand on Merlin's shoulder. 

"For all intents and purposes... yes. I think. That’s been what we’re lead to believe," he adds somewhat uncertainly. Merlin's laughter becomes more natural. 

"Lance, what do you mean; where are we?" the warlock asks. Lancelot waves an arm around them, looking out toward the horizon, where the emerald of the grass touches the sky.

"Some call it the afterlife, some call it Heaven. I just call it... Home. It’s odd - nobody really knows anything about this place, no more than the world before it at least," he says, shrugging slightly. "It looks just like Camelot, there's a citadel not too far from here. But everything's much better. There is no shortage of food, no terrible winters, or wars." 

Merlin raises an eyebrow, and with a jab of his elbow, nudges Lancelot. "So basically, you're bored - nothing for you to do?" Lancelot laughs, shaking his head. 

"Merlin, would you believe me if I said no? If I told you-" and at this, he throws an arm over Merlin's shoulder, and begins walking. "That I have land here - a farm - and a wife. Children?" 

Merlin laughs for a second, but it drifts off as he imagines. He can actually picture Lancelot, a babe on his knee and a wife sitting by the fire. He simply watches Lancelot, and then asks "You can have children in... Heaven?" 

"Well, I have taken them in as my own - Gabe and Annabelle - they... Arrived here too. As did my wife, Sarah, though Sarah has been here much longer than I have," and at that, something tugs at a memory in Merlin's mind. He recalls the sombre mood in the tavern one night many years ago, the quiet murmurs of the barmaids and drunkards. 

"Sarah, the innkeeper's daughter?" He says with some surprise - she had been a lovely girl, sweet and caring, and had always given Merlin an extra helping or two of soup - until she fell from a horse one afternoon, and died three days later. Gaius did what he could, but the poor girl just didn't wake up. 

Lancelot nods, urging Merlin on a little faster "Yes! Isn't she lovely? She's lost none of her wit, or charm, she's simply-" the old knight's eyes shine with wonder and awe. "Brilliant..."

 

Suddenly, a settlement comes into view, not too different from Ealdor in it's look, though it is much cleaner, the houses all well built and sturdy, large enough for each family to live in plenty of comfort. Merlin cannot deny it is exactly his kind of paradise. No draft through his window, no hard floor to sleep on, no bossy prat to wake you up every- Merlin's stomach drops. 

Arthur. 

Gaius.

Gwen.

Gwaine.

The knights, that damned dragon, Camelot - his mother, home. 

Merlin is dead. Lancelot is dead, they're all dead here. 

He must look sick, because Lancelot stops as they're less then ten paces from the settlement, his arm sliding down to grasp Merlin's waist, as suddenly his legs fall from under him.

"Merlin, hey, Merlin - it's okay, hold on to me," but Merlin shakes his head, feeling sick, but lacking anything to expel, his body just keeps rolling the nauseating feeling around his stomach.

"Lance, I'm- we're all- dead! And I-I-I had a d-destiny to fill and-" suddenly the breaths he doesn't need are coming thick and fast, shaking his body to the core, tears finding their way to his eyes as he trembles. He isn't sure what's happening, why it's taken him this long to realise, but his lungs ache and for the love of all that is magical, so does his stomach - it burns. 

Glancing down, his pristine tunic is once more stained, blood seeping through, like an old wound has opened up. His fingers dance over the stains, at which point Lancelot takes his hand, holding it to the sun for better light. 

"Merlin?" The question that had been forming turns into a cry of shock, as Merlin keels over completely, face down in the soft grass. He grasps the warlock's shoulder, concern lining his face.

"Merlin, I don't understand, we're healthy over here - you shouldn't still be like this!" 

And then Merlin laughs again. Today is just one bizarre event after the next. 

"Th-then it worked!" He cries hysterically, a lopsided grin pressing into the ground. He pushes himself over, onto his back, so he can catch a glimpse of Lancelot. 

"I'm not quite dead, I can still get back-" he says, and a cough sends blood splattering over Lancelot's tunic. The knight shakes his head in disbelief. 

"It's only you, isn't it? Finding some way to get out of here - you're crazy!" Merlin tries to smile through the pain wracking through his body again. "Crazy, yes - I'm a-actually going back to try and save that pr-prat from... Well h-himself I guess, 's useless without me," he babbles, his tongue becoming thick and making it harder and harder to talk. As the world, or wherever it is they are, threatens to burst back into darkness once again, Lancelot's face hovers over his. 

"Do me a favour, once you’re back?" He asks and Merlin nods. "Tell them I'm okay - and I miss them," and once more, Merlin nods. 

"And Merlin, you - stay safe, okay? I don't want to see you again for many, many years!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay or nay? I'm not too happy with this part myself, but I think it needs to happen in order for it to continue - please let me know what you think!


	4. Dead Men Tell No Tales

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, another chapter! I hope you enjoy it!

The door to the royal chambers are hanging open, and even from two corridors down, Gwen can hear her husband yelling - screeching almost - and the sound of fists slamming tables. The guards have long since vanished, knowing full well to leave their King alone, so Gwen has no need to make some polite excuse for Arthur’s behavior, and instead hurries even faster into the room. Arthur is not facing her, but the window, and his fists pound the desk that stands between himself and the outside world, as though he can break down these walls with nothing more than his fists. As she moves closer, he turns, hearing her light footsteps echo in an otherwise silent room. 

Arthur’s eyes are filled with tears, and he cannot look Gwen in the eye. How can he, when he let her best friend die? How can he be near her, when he caused Merlin’s death? His mind races ahead - Gwaine will never let him forget this. Merlin had been gone all day when Gwaine had suggested that he might be in some sort of trouble, and Arthur had, for the most part brushed it off as another one of Merlin’s frequent trips to the tavern. So they had done nothing, and the next morning Arthur was rather pissed off that Merlin had yet to return - on such an important day too. The visiting Lord Winchester was staying the evening in Camelot as he travelled through, and the dinner had been discussed for months in advance - yet Merlin was still nowhere to be found. As much as Arthur had wanted to whack the clotpole around the head with a shoe, George arrived and hurried him off into a non-stop day of meeting, greeting, toasting, hosting and all the other, rather time consuming duties of being King. He fell into bed at the end of the night, exhausted but content, his mind never once going to his missing manservant as the wine and ale went to his head. 

So yet another day had slipped by without Merlin, who Arthur had presumed was off getting drunk, another day Merlin was actually left in the hand of Morgana. A day that ended in Arthur's chambers with Gwaine crashing through the door, furious - having plastered on a smile as the visiting Lord left -  insisting that the knights all agreed there was something amiss, and that if Arthur wasn’t going to help them then they would do it on their own. Arthur realised at that point it had gone on longer than usual, and agreed to set out the following morning.

Another three days passed, each long days that resulted in the knights returning to the citadel empty handed - until on the fifth night, Arthur found he could no longer sleep. Gwen, worried though she was, spent much of her day running Camelot in place of Arthur, lay exhausted next to him, sleeping peacefully while Arthur’s mind raced. 

Climbing from bed, he had thrown on the nearest tunic and sheathed his sword, before scribbling a note for Gwen.

_‘I can’t wait for him to turn up on his own, he’ll never find his way back_

_You know what to do_

_I love you_

_I’ll bring him back, I promise_

_Arthur’_

He slid from the room like a shadow, and made his way into the forrest, finding a trail not far from the gates that had none of the markings of Camelot’s men. He followed it for a few hours, by which time the sun had begun to show, and he was glad for the warmth, given that he had in his hurry, forgone anything other than the one layer of his tunic. 

His next memories were all slightly foggy,  a blast of magic hitting his chest and leaving him with a blank, until there are chains on his hands, his feet and there’s Merlin, he’s _found_ him- but he’s so broken, Arthur’s heart aches. Merlin, stupid, bumbling, with his goofy grin and insane chatter - has blood dripping into his eyes, an arm that must be screaming with the pain and doesn’t even look like he knows where he is. Yet he still grins.

Arthur shakes his head. He left Merlin in that woman’s hands for almost a week, and now. 

Now he’s dead. 

Arthur dreads the coming days. Of telling Gwaine, Merlin’s best friend (because as much as he would deny it, Arthur is - _was_ \- his best friend, but he hardly deserves that title after letting him die like that), of the knights who saw him as a younger brother. Of seeing Hunith, the impossibly wonderful woman, and telling her yes - he, the crown King of Camelot caused her only son’s death. Of seeing the looks on the lords and nobles who knew of the unusually close bond they had shared, and seeing the rumour spread like wildfire. The King cannot (will not?) save even a manservant - his best friend. Or the tears in the eyes of the serving girls (and boys, Arthur wasn’t stupid) who all had soft spots for Merlin. The ones who had received flowers on birthdays Merlin never forgot, or a shoulder to cry on after a long day. 

Arthur heard what went on in the servants quarters, the kitchens, the tavern. Merlin was loved by most of Camelot, without even trying.  Arthur had let him die. His stomach churns and he feels sick. Then he finally looks into Gwen’s eyes. 

“Arthur?” she asks, standing off a few paces. 

He looks at Gwen, her hair out of place, her dress crumpled; her face a picture of worry. Yet her eyes still show the same solid determination they always have. Like his tutors when he was younger, she looked ready to take charge and set him straight. How he wishes it were so easy to fix. 

He makes no move to speak, but does take the three strides across the room to her and takes her hand gently in his. Gwen squeezes his hand, and motions to the bed. “Arthur, I need to tell you something and  I think you should sit down,” she says, already going towards the bed. Arthur stops though, his grip tightening slightly. 

“Gwen,” he says with a hoarse voice. “I think… I should tell you first- about Mer-” Gwen raises her hand and presses her fingers against his lips. 

“Arthur, please. Listen to me? This is important,” Arthur’s face falls and he’s almost grimacing. 

“ Guinevere , you don’t understand! I did this, I caused this - and now Merlin is dead!” 

Despite starting as calmly as possible, he ends up raising his voice, and it wavers on Merlin’s name. Yet Gwen does not flinch, she just pulls Arthur closer against her. Pulls him down, so she can wrap her arms around his neck, his head left to rest on her shoulder. At first, Arthur’s arms stay where they are - one tucked between them, clasping Gwen’s, the other limp by his side. Then Gwen drops his hand in favour of having it slide around his neck too, keeping him closer still. She says nothing more, only holds him. Slowly, ever so slowly, he pulls his arms up - they feel like lead - to her hips, to hold her. Not to hold her in place though, but to hold himself up. The rage and anger and passion in him has left in a rush, leaving him hollow and cold. Gwen is warm and soft and solid. She keeps him standing. 

Nothing is said at all while they embrace, until Gwen finally pulls back, to look Arthur in the eyes again. In her calm and gentle voice she asks 

“Will you let me speak now? It’s pretty important,” and at that, Arthur nods. He isn’t sure how much longer he will be able to go on, because the bed look so comfortable. The perfect escape from the world, this world without Merlin - but Gwen is sad as well, and she deserves answers, she deserves the truth of what Arthur did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to clear something up too - Arthur hasn't even thought about Merlin's magic, because I think in light of everything else, it's almost insignificant - but don't fear! Soon, he'll know what Gwen knows and thats when we get the fall out from that! 
> 
> I don't have the next part written yet, and school's going to start getting hectic, but I want to hopefully have the next part up in the week. Hope you don't mind the wait, I shall be as quick as I can :D
> 
> Thank you again <3


	5. The Penny Drops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, I'm so sorry this has taken ages to arrive! I had the first 3 chapters all pretty much done when I uploaded, the rest are all being done one by one, so I'm sorry for the wait in between - uni life is stress! But I have plans for these guys, so I do hope you enjoy the next chapter!

Once again, Merlin found himself suddenly coming into being, this time in the middle of the citadel. People buzzed around him, chattering and shouting - though there was an undercurrent of rushed whispers, his own name being thrown around every once in a while. It was as though, in this form, he could hear everything and anything. All at once, he heard the sales being made in the market, the game being played by the children in the courtyard. There were conversations going on all around him, and he could hear every single one.  Nobody seemed to know much of what happened, except that the King had been seen, carrying his bloody, beat up manservant through the halls. His mind suddenly flying to Arthur, Merlin found himself in the King’s chambers. This transportation was odd to say the least. 

It had fallen silent in Arthur’s chambers, and the King’s face was pale, the brave face from moments before gone. He looked so tired. If only Merlin had arrived moments before, he would have watched as Gwen pressed her hand to Arthur’s lips and stopped him speaking another word. His eyes lingered on her fingers for a while, making him look cross eyed and making a small titter escape Gwen’s lips. Take away the crown and throne, Arthur was just a man - and a slightly daft one at that. He must have realised the cause of her laugh and in return, smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes, but it was better than him yelling. Gwen pursed her lips into a straight face once more, and removed her hand. 

“Arthur… do you remember what happened?” she asked. She knew what she had to tell him, but now the moment had arrived, she hadn’t the first idea how to start. Arthur thought for a moment. 

“I remember being in Morgana’s… hiding place? Chained up, and then she lead me to a chamber where M-” he lost his voice for a moment, then shifted weight on his feet as though it would give him passage around the painful topic. So much for a king, he thought to himself. 

“She lead me to the chamber where she held Merlin, and then she attacked him - some magic was cast and then I had Merlin - and we ran, and ran and ran until…” he trailed off, his breath lost from the long stream of words. “You know what happened next,” he added afterwards, glancing towards the bed. How he wished he could wake up now, that he could forget any of this had ever happened in a yell and the shrug of a bad dream. 

Gwen nodded. “Do you remember the magic, Arthur? Who… who cast it?” she asked, and Arthur almost instinctively took a step back. Hearing Gwen talk of magic just seemed so unnatural. Especially if she was suggesting what he thought she was. 

“Well… no. I heard someone say something, and then there was an blast of some sort - what are you saying?” he asked; and then his face turned to stone. “Merlin.” There’s an undercurrent of something in his voice, though Gwen couldn’t be sure if it was anger or shock. Probably both. For Arthur though, the last piece had finally fallen into place. It all suddenly made sense, all the blurs, the missing moments he never really caught up on because he was fighting, or out cold, or just not looking in the right direction. 

The room had been swallowed by a silence, and it is when Merlin appeared that the room fell quiet. It was a horrible, crushing silence that even Gwen could feel pushing her tight. 

Then Arthur spoke, and Merlin - trapped by his lack of form - could only listen. 

“Magic… I guess I already knew. Sort of,” and his face falls into an awful grimace. The first reaction, his only reaction to magic, ever - disgust. Complete and utter revulsion churns his stomach at the though of being so close to that which he worked his whole life to protect himself against. Magic had done nothing good, ever. So neither had Merlin, nobody like Merlin could ever save anyone with magic. Yet something sliced through the disgust, as his mind dove deeper into Merlin’s life. A memory, from so long ago now, in Ealdor. The torrents of wind that had swept away the enemy - the boy’s magic; Will? A whole town saved. Arthur wanted to laugh. That had all been a lie then. Lies, countless lies.

Gwen tilts her head slightly, confused. “Well, he did transport you to the citadel in a matter of seconds.”  Arthur shakes his head, hair falling into his eyes. With a weary wave of his hand he pushes it back (really it needed a cut a few days ago, but Merlin wasn’t there to - he crushes the thought) and sighs. 

“Before then. The battles we won, outnumbered. His dumb luck. His ability to just appear, as if by…” he laughs, almost bitterly. 

“Magic,” Gwen finishes, and Arthur nods. She reaches a tentative hand out to her husband, whose eyes keep wandering to the pillows of the bed they are sat on. “Arthur? How do you feel? Please, talk to me. Shutting yourself away isn’t going to do anything,” but at that Arthur pulls away, standing so that he can untie the blood splattered tunic and slip it over his head. 

“How I feel is irrelevant. Merlin is dead,” he says and that’s made it final, final enough for another wave of guilt to wash over him, sending him reeling into the desk. Despite the hatred that has been drummed into him for so long, the hatred that thinks in an evil, awful voice that _‘it’s good Merlin is dead’_ He still let Merlin die. His friend. Friend? He has no idea, his head is pounding now, trying to untie the messy pile of emotions. Anger rushes through him, at Merlin, at his father, at himself. Has he been under a spell the whole time? Then why didn’t it end with Merlin’s death. Surely if Merlin had enchanted him, based their friendship on a spell then it would have ended with the warlock himself. It would be easier, certainly, if all the care he had for the man vanished. Then Merlin would just be another evil to throw on the pyre, and leave for dust. 

But he wasn’t and Arthur couldn’t stop the feelings. He growls. 

“He was _magic!_ He came to Camelot, with _magic!_ He spent his life casting spells, and doing magic. All those times, every time - behind our backs he slinks off to summon dragons, or- or- or!” 

“Or save your life, Arthur,” Gwen says quietly, enough to stop Arthur in his tracks. He looks at her, once again with tear filled eyes. She rises too, her eyes taking on a stern look. To be honest, she wasn’t at all surprised Merlin had magic. From nearly the first day they met, she had picked up on the little things - and if she had any doubts, the trip she had taken to Ealdor with Merlin and - her stomach rolls to think about her - Morgana had confirmed it. She respected the fact that Merlin kept quiet though, especially while Uther ruled Camelot. In her eyes, Merlin’s magic had been like her relationship with Arthur. Not to be, not allowed - and if it did happen, it was a secret to be kept. Everyone had their secrets, Gwen knew that as much as anyone. 

Arthur’s head pinched more, and he was close to throwing himself into the wall, just to get it to shut up and let him sleep for a while. A long while. He couldn’t deny that if Merlin wanted him dead - or his father for that matter, any of the nobles and knights for that matter - then they’d have been dead by now. It didn’t make sense, to spend so long as a manservant, in a position of relative responsibility over the royals day to day life - with the intent of murder - for so many years without doing anything. So maybe Merlin hadn’t wanted to kill him, but that little addition didn’t do much to quell the anger that simmered ever present in his chest. 

“Gwen, well then no - that’s not the point - I don’t _care_ what he was using it for. I’m angry he wouldn’t tell tell me! He knew, of course he had to - he was more than a servant, I trusted him more than that, Gwen! Tell me, you knew it too. He was smarter than that, please tell me. He didn’t tell me? I just refuse to believe he didn’t want to… The stupid idiot,” he cries “Dumb clotpole, imbecile…. The half witted… prat,” he trailed off, realising he was spouting all the ridiculously Merlin-y words he knew. The idiot had found his way into Arthur’s life in so many ways. Like a bucket of water left out during winter, the thought of never hearing those silly words again froze him - and at that the King is on his knees, curled over his desk and the tears fall silently onto his maps. He could be angry and pissed off at the lies later. He could scream at Merlin  through an empty room another day. For now, he just misses his friend. 

Gwen thinks about mentioning the strange occurrence in Gaius’ chambers for a fleeting second, before throwing away all propriety and collapsing next to Arthur, sobbing. 

Merlin can only watch with a broken heart as his best friends cry, and he can feel the tears fall on Gaius’ book’s, where the old man tries to hide his sorrow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you liked it, I'm pretty happy with this chapter! Let me know if you have any comments or criticism, and I hope to have the next chapter out as soon as possible - and we'll head back to Merlin soon as well <3


	6. Anyone There?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY! Uni got incredibly stressful and busy, and this chapter has been so slow in the making, and it isn't quite as long as the others, but I really liked the way it wrapped up, so apologies for that! Hope you enjoy <3

Watching his friends (and yes, he thinks, he can call the king and queen his friends now) in such a state, Merlin resolves there and then to fix this even sooner. He cannot bear the sight of them so sad. Certainly not Arthur, who never cries this much. He hates seeing Gwen cry too, but to see Arthur so low, he feels as though his own heart is breaking. To know that despite the lies, despite it all, Arthur is left crying over his death, he cannot think to do otherwise. As manservant to the king, it is his duty to see to Arthur’s every need - and what Arthur needed right now was him. Though Merlin is selfish and he wants to be back in Arthur’s life, more than anything, he thinks. 

His mind briefly flickers back to the realm he had awoken in and to Lancelot. He _could_ spend eternity there, it’s what everyone else would do - the natural progression of life after death, so it seems. He’s pretty sure that if he fades from this world again, that’s where he’d wind up. It’s easier, the quickest and most painless route. Within his internal monologue, Merlin laughs at himself. As if he’d ever leave this world before Arthur. He always had to pick the hard way didn’t he? Everything was always so much harder - the burden ten times heavier, the price one hundred times as much. Sometimes it was just _too_ much. Sometimes he did just want to give up, and now he knew that there was something for him after it all,  he has to admit it’s tempting. Lancelot, his father, Will - Freya? 

He wishes he had lungs because that thought makes him want to do some deep breathing. Freya is most probably, almost definitely over there. The only girl he’s ever loved. He could be with her for the rest of time. That was a just reward, right? For all the sacrifices he’s made so far, to be with the woman he loved seemed a happy ending. Her face calls him to her arms, and once again he finds himself doubting his path. Yet when he looks at Arthur, he sees a future too. Their future, the one in which they build Camelot up to be the most powerful kingdom, one of humans and warlocks alike - of peace and joy, just like the next world. A world he could build with Arthur. The future that would make everything so much better for everyone - but was so hard to find. The one that meant countless more battles and wars and cuts and bruises and lying face-down in dirt with weapons in his back, a knife at his throat and demons on his shoulder. The one that would have him constantly lying and running and running and _never stopping always moving and pushing and scraping and it was just so hard -_ ** _God’s it never ends!_**

And then he looks at Arthur, and he sees his destiny in those blue eyes and knows he can’t give those up. He will serve Arthur till the day he dies. In fact, he’ll do one better and serve him for another lifetime. 

Despising himself for even thinking of giving up, Merlin’s focus glides back into the scene before him, and he’s amazed that only a few seconds have passed. Pulling on the tendrils of his power together, he focuses on Gwen once again. Maybe he can do it once again. He tugs on the power, tighter until it balls up in where his chest should be and an odd sensation makes the air ripple around him. He glances down and realises, with a small start that he has a body - well almost. He can’t move it, or really control it - he isn’t sure he’s even standing on the ground and he certainly has no shadow - but  it’s something, and he feels more real already. 

Gwen chooses that moment to glance up, and her eyes widen as they pass over him, but she shakes her head almost immediately. So he isn’t entirely visible either, but it at least makes him fairly confident that Gwen is aware of him, on some level. This might be easier he thinks, as he urges his arms to embrace her, and speak -

“Arthur, Gwen? I’m still here, I’m trying to get back to you I- ah!” he gasps, as his power snaps back to him with a sharp sting. In any less sombre of a setting, the look on Arthur’s face would have been hilarious. His eyes snap to Gwen’s, his mouth dropping open and he looks so bewildered he seems to have stopped all other functions. Merlin’s vision swims for a moment as he hears Gwen try to explain.

“A-Arthur, this happened before - with Gaius! When I said Merlin had magic-” (and Merlin’s heart swells when she doesn’t stutter over that sentence, or say it with venom) “- this is how I knew, he did this. He can still talk to us… through us. He’s here,” she says, her eyes searching the room. For the briefest second again, her eyes fix on Merlin, her face pinched in confusion, before looking back down into Arthur’s eyes. Arthur seems to have lost all control of his body, because he rocks on his knees and slumps into the desk, shoulder and head resting against the cool wood as his eyelids droop.

“He’s… here? Not dead?” he asks, and it sounds so small, so confused that Merlin wishes he could reach out and reassure him. With the same swell of power as before, he suddenly has control of his left hand, and - determined not to let this go to waste - uses it to knock a left-over goblet from the desk. The world swirls dangerously once more with the effort, but the cup tumbles from the desk, onto the King’s head and lands with a soft thump in his lap. Arthur’s eyes follow the cup as it rocks in his lap for a second, and Merlin waits above him, already dizzy from the exertion. There’s no sound for a minute, except Merlin is sure he hears the splash of water hit the cup. Then Arthur’s voice, rough and tired.

“Merlin, if you throw anything else at me,” he says, looking up at Gwen with a shake of the head and the biggest grin. “You’ll be in the stocks for a week.” 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Please let me know if you enjoyed it, and if you think there's anything I've missed out - I think I'd like to do a chapter on Gwaine's reaction to it all, but it wouldn't really be enough for a whole chapter - maybe a one-shot? 
> 
> But also, another note - uni is kinda busy, but we finish up for Christmas soon, so I would like to think I could get a fair bit of writing done over the holidays, but I can't make any solid promises. I hope that if you enjoy this, you'll stick along for the ride, because I do have a plan for this, and I hope not to leave it unfinished! 
> 
> Thank you for reading guys <3


	7. Waiting in the Wings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an odd time to upload for me but I've had a late night and got it done and just wanted it up - you guys have waited long enough! I hope you enjoy this, I tried to make it longer than the last update, because I'm not sure when I'll have another one for you - uni begins again in a few days! Enjooooy!

Arthur, crumpled at his desk with a smile still stuck to his face, suddenly looses steam. The week finally catching up with him, the smile falters and his eyelids droop. Losing Merlin, looking for Merlin, being captured and then beaten - finding Merlin, watching Merlin die, finding out Merlin had magic and then finding out Merlin wasn’t actually really, completely dead. A long week. He was exhausted.

Gwen watched, her hand reaching for Arthur’s face to pat it softly. “Maybe we should sleep though, before we put anyone in stocks?” she asks, and Arthur’s already taking her hand to lever himself upwards. Gwen glances around, and Merlin is pretty sure she’s looking for him. “Do you mind, Merlin?” she asks, not really expecting a reply. She had felt the exhaustion in Merlin earlier, the gust of energy it took just to expel a few words. Speaking was not easy for him. Still, the now-familiar sensation of her lips moving of their own accord shaped just two small words.

“Sweet dreams”

With that, Merlin feels the pull of sleep, or whatever it is he does when he blacks out of this reality. Already it seems darker, but this time, not nearly as terrifying, because the light when he returns will be Arthur, and not the pyre.

He comes to once again, in another realm. Only, this time he knows where he is headed and is therefore pleasantly surprised when he opens he finds himself resting against a cool stone rather than mud. A house, he reasons, and this time he has no trouble pushing himself to his feet. He feels a smile tug at his lips as he takes in the area. It’s the village he saw before, a beautiful place - well kept houses, gardens blossoming in a rainbow of colours and, he notes with a small chuckle - not a set of stocks in sight. There are people moving about, into houses or what seem to be shops, children playing in the centre of the village, a small grassy area surrounded by a small iron fence. There are few clouds in the sky and the sun is shining down and Merlin feels his heart swell. This is beautiful.

Then with a woosh of air, something comes flying at his head. His hands fly up, instinctively and the object - a ball - stops. His stomach drops as he realises what he’s done, ‘ _God’s I hope Arthur didn’t see that-’_ is his first thought, quickly followed by the second ‘ _Arthur’s not here you clotpole’._ His third thought is cut off before it began by the giggling of a young boy, who then tries to turn them into coughs. He has to be around nine, unruly dark hair framing his small face and dark brown eyes. 

“Sorry mister!” he calls, waving his hand - at which his eyes flash gold and the ball finds its way back into his upturned palm. Merlin’s eyes widen. Magic? A reoccurring patter it seems - as his mouth flutters open and shut a few times, and he goes to think -when another voice interrupts him.

“Gods, Gabe - what have I told you about playing ball?” comes Lancelot’s voice, which is soon followed by the man himself from the door of the house Merlin had been resting against. His voice, somewhat annoyed, is betrayed by the smile on his face as he waves a finger at the young boy. “It stays _inside_ the fence! You remember what happened last time?” The boy nod his head, tossing the ball between his hands. “Yes, ofcourse father,” he calls back with a smile, before turning back to his game.Lancelot sighs and then turns towards Merlin.

“Sorry for the fri- Merlin!” the knight’s face splits into an even wider grin as he embraces Merlin again. Still incredibly confused but pleased nonetheless, Merlin pats Lancelot’s back. When Lancelot pulls back though, there’s a look of concern on his face. 

“I thought I told you not to come back for a while,” he said, his eyes searching the young warlock’s face. Merlin shook his head and shrugged. “I seem to be able to… move between these realms. The other one tires me out, and I wake up here, I think that’s how it works at least,” he answers, but he’s distracted still, by the young Gabe, who is still playing with his friends, but every so often summons the ball with a flick of his wrist.Lancelot nods his head, and Merlin wonders if he just accepts that things just aren’t normal where Merlin is concerned. 

The ex-knight watches Merlin for a while, his pale face caught in the sunlight, bringing a faint glow to his skin. He’s glad that for once, Merlin seems okay. Too often he had been pulled to the extreme, haggard and worn out. By night he fought evil and by day he served Arthur but all too often the two overlapped and the poor manservant got maybe an hour or two of sleep, if he was lucky. Here, nobody was ever really tired. There was no terrible threat of a bad harvest, or of floods that killed crops - if you needed a lie in, you had one. It was peaceful. That was the look Lancelot saw, or at least he would have if Merlin wasn’t still thoroughly confused. He followed the warlock’s eyes to where his sun stood in the small garden. 

“You’re wondering how he can do that, aren’t you?” he asks softly. It takes a few seconds for Merlin to respond, a small nod as he drags his eyes from the undoubtable show of magic. “Nobody… nobody’s saying anything. He’s free,” he says, in a voice so wistful Lancelot’s heart breaks. He nods. 

“Nobody cares. Well, no, that’s not the right word - we care about his magic,” and Merlin’s lips quirk up at the easy way the word flows, no fear in it at all. “It’s a wonderful thing. It’s nothing for him to be ashamed of. Just like yours isn’t, Merlin,” he says, reaching a hand out to grasp the warlock’s shoulder. Merlin turns to him and the he looks more relaxed than Lancelot’s ever seen him. Even when camelot was prosperous and happy, Merlin was on alert for the next threat, and Arthur’s own eyes, careful not to slip up and use any of the magic that came so naturally. 

“You can use it here, if you’d like. It seems all of those who arrive here welcome the idea - most of us knew people with magic, good people,” Lancelot says, his voice quieter. Merlin looks intrigued, crossing his arms over his chest. “Really? Nobody protests it?” With a shake of the head Lancelot replies. 

“Nope - that sort must have ended up somewhere else. This place is supposed to be paradise - home. This is home to those who embrace magic, and those who use it. You don’t have to pretend here.” 

The longer the two stand and talk, the more Lancelot can see Merlin’s shoulders drop, all the tension slipping away. The sun, the breeze, the gentle hum of magic that flows through the whole village is calming. Then his hands fall to his sides, fingers loose as they dance on the breeze. He noticed, even back in Camelot that Merlin never stopped moving. There was always some part of him that kept moving - a foot tapping against the floor when he sat and ate, his head nodding to himself even alone, or his eyes, constantly gliding across the sky. Now, it was his fingers drifting through the air as though to play an instrument. He had seen it before, in his son’s hands when he watched the stars at night. The pull of magic around them, the magic that they could feel pulsating through the world - both this one and the other it seemed. Merlin’s body screamed magic, and it just seemed so wrong for him to keep it so hidden. Like being forced to only use one arm when you have the ability to use two.

In all those thoughts, only a few seconds had passed, but Merlin had lifted his hands, upturned to the sun. He looks down at them, and with the smallest wave of his fingers, sends a small shower of golden butterflies into the air. The flash of gold that never ceases to amaze him flashes across the warlocks eyes. A giggle escapes his lips as he does it again, and the once more, each wave sending golden shimmers swirling about their heads. 

“I think I’ll like it here,” Merlin says with a grin.

What Merlin estimates to be little more than a few hours pass, as Lancelot shows him around the village, his home and introduces him to his family. Sarah recognises him instantly, sweeping him into a hug as she whispers against his cheek “I think I always knew, you know?” They find seats around the table as she digs out an extra tankard, sliding it along the table just like she would the bar in Camelot. As the conversation from outside continues he feels almost as if he _is_ back in Camelot - the banter is quick and easy, the drink good and plentiful and Arthur isn’t there to throw a glove at him. Silently, Merlin congratulates himself on thinking of Arthur and not suddenly worrying - he can take this break because really, as a dead man, he deserves it. He’ll return to the other realm, he is sure of that, but not while the sun begins to set and Lancelot is finishing the dinner preparations. Sarah calls in the children and Gabe rushes to help his father carry the food to the table. Their daughter, who looks younger than the boy by a year or so, stays by her mother’s side, slightly wary of Merlin’s presence. He gives her a small wave and she instantly waves back, though still clutching Sarah’s dress. Sarah laughs, patting her daughter’s head and ushering her towards Merlin. “Anna, this is Merlin, a friend of your father’s - say hello.”

Annabelle looks from her mother’s face to Merlin’s and nods, stepping forward again, her hand outstretched. “Hello Merlin,” she says, her hand hovering almost expectantly. He takes it and gives it a shake, which makes the girl giggle. Then as quick as she arrived inside, she scurries away to set the plates on the table. Merlin stands to help, and for a minute is wistful again. He could have this too - a home with a loving wife, children. His thoughts find their way back to Freya, but then soon vanish. He cannot allow himself to be distracted, not for long - dinner and he must return. Arthur is where his life is now, and Arthur will need him soon. A wife, children and a pretty little cottage don’t fit into that life at all. He has what he needs and that will have to be enough - enough for Arthur. For Albion. 

They eat, and a part of Merlin wonders if they even need food in this realm - they’re already dead, after all - but nonetheless, the food is good and the conversation flowing. Gabe apologises again for almost hitting him with his ball and he laughs it off, inwardly marveling when they begin to discuss magic at the table. Gaius had been reluctant to do the same in Camelot because Arthur had the annoying habit of barging in whenever he felt like it, so even within their own quarters, magic-talk was kept to a minimum. One day, Merlin thinks to himself, as the children are sent to their beds, and the plates to the sink, one day he will have this relaxed life. He thanks Sarah for her hospitality, and bids her goodnight, and stands to pull Lancelot into a hug. He offers Merlin a bed for the night, but he shakes his head.

“I have to return at some point and I’ve no idea how long I’ve been away - Arthur will be looking for me,” he says, and Lancelot chuckles. “So just like any other day, huh? Although, I have to ask, how exactly do you get back?” he asks, and Merlin shrugs. “Last time I just _wanted_ to return and I-” 

He gasps as the words pass his lips and fire rips across his abdomen making him double over in pain. It seems willing the change is all it takes, because once again there’s blood pooling on his shirt. He attempts to stand straight, but only manages to raise his head enough to watch Lancelot’s face cloud with worry. 

“I’m not sure I like this method of travel Merlin,” he says, gripping Merlin’s arm with a strong and steady hand. The warlock grimaces, and allows his old friend to lower him back into the chair - already his knees are weak and his breaths coming unnecessarily fast. He goes to speak but his jaw is heavy and uncooperative, so instead lets his lips pull into what he hopes is a reassuring smile, finding the hand on his arms and giving it a squeeze. Darkness fogs his eyes, and within seconds his is gone. 

For one moment, one eternity he is nowhere. 

Then he once again has being, some ghost-like substance in the real world, _his_ world. Arthur is lying on the bed, Gwen curled up against him. Sunlight begins to pool on the bed and the king shifts ever so sightly in his sleep. Merlin stands by Arthur’s head, watching the sunlight shower him in a golden glow - he makes no shadow like a living man would. Instead, he is as he should be - the quiet, invisible protector to his king. Soon he will wake, because Merlin knows exactly when George will saunter through the door, breakfast in hand. So Merlin takes his position and waits, watching over the sleeping king. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom baby - now we can finally get going with fixing this situation! Sorry for another chapter more focused in the 'other realm' I just enjoy torturing Merlin and also, Lancelot is great, right? I'm thinking this won't have many more chapters because I have an end kind of in sight, but we shall see how it goes - lemme know if you guys enjoyed or found a bunch of plot holes (it's late and I edit my own work, not a good combination whoops)! Much love, see you all soon <3


	8. Merlin's Beard (Harry!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, I am so sorry. Life has been crazy, and I cannot apologise enough for the delay in this, but have no fear! I WILL finish this, eventually. It's something of a personal goal, I have never in my life completed anything longer than a oneshot! There is a plan, all the way to an end for this story and I will finish it. I hope that if you've been reading since I started this, that you won't mind sticking it out with me? Either way, I really hope you enjoy this piece and like where this thing is going!
> 
> EDIT 05/05/16: I changed up a few sentences because it sounded weird and didn't make as much sense as I had hoped, please forgive me it was 2 AM

Arthur is woken, exactly on time by George, a tray of food in hand. He cracks open an eyes, to find that Guinevere has already woken and is being at her table with a young lady plaiting her hair. 

“Your breakfast, sire,” the man says, and Arthur cannot hear the usual cheer in his voice. Looking up with both eyes now, he can see how the prim and proper servant is slumped somewhat, not entirely focused - at least not enough to find meaningless words to fill the silence. _That’s right_ Arthur thinks, as last night returns to him _Merlin is dead - at least, the castle thinks so._ He isn’t sure now is the best time to explain it to the servant seeing as he hardly understands it either, so he tries his best not to think of Merlin’s voice echoing the hall last night, and pulls at the memories of the lifeless corpse he carried home. Happy, _or should that be sad_ , that he has the right look for a king whose servant _and best friend_ just died, he looks up. 

“On the table please George,” and before he’s finished George has crossed the room to rest the platter on the table. No extra words to fill the space again, making Arthur feel guilty. As George turns back to him, he can see pinch of his brows and the way he nibbles his lip. As he makes his way to his closet, and George looks embarrassed by his missed duties, Arthur shakes his head. 

“Take the day off George. What happened… it’s got to us all,” he says, silencing the mans protests with a wave of his hand. He isn’t sure he can handle pretending to feel anything right now, and George, no matter how different, still reminds him of Merlin. 

 “Thank you sire,” George adds quickly, before making a swift exit from the room. It seems odd, he thinks that the man who so clearly detested Merlin’s serving ability cares so much for the boy - but then Merlin was so much more than a servant to everyone. Nobody could hate him. A small sob makes him turn his head, to see Gwen looking shocked as her lady in waiting breaks down on her shoulder. She gives Arthur a quick shake of the head before turning, and pulling the girl closer to her shoulder for a hug. 

“Cry all you need,” she says softly, and the girls shakes her head and pulls away. 

“I-I-I’m sorry, my lady, I’ll stop, I’m b-being silly,” she says, but her hands do not stop shaking as she picks the ribbon up from where it fluttered to the floor. She tries once again to tie the ribbon into Gwen’s hair, and her fingers tremble as the ribbon falls limp again, and her tears fall again. Gwen gently slides the ribbon from her locks, and with tears in her own eyes, stands. 

“You may leave too, take the day off,” she says, and the girl dithers for a moment before thanking the queen with a nod of her head and all but sprinting from the room. Arthur stands for a moment, one hand resting on a shirt that still hangs in his closet and watches as Gwen sweeps her hair up and ties the ribbon. She turns back to him and and while her lips don’t move, her eyes at least are smiling. Gwen has not lost all hope. He turns, staying quiet as Gwen reaches for her perfumes and the two finish their morning routines in comfortable silence. They finally speak as they sit down for breakfast. 

As hungry as he usually is, Arthur cannot bring himself to eat much. He picks at some bread, a few bites of an apple. Gwen notices, her keens eyes watching as he twirls the stalk of the apple between his fingers. 

“You should eat something else, Arthur,” she says, reaching for a goblet of water. Arthur sighs, and drops the unfinished fruit onto the plate. “I don’t feel like breakfast today Gwen… I-” he smirks. “Merlin would have had this. Any other day, he’d whisk it off and have the rest himself.” His stomach coils again, making the plate in front of him more unappealing. “He never ate properly… he was always… in a rush,” he trails off, not sure how else to word the feelings that won’t stop clawing at him: Merlin is gone, he’s sad. Merlin’s not _properly dead_ , he’s happy. Merlin had - has? - magic, he feels anger, so much anger. Merlin saved his life, he feels terrible. He cannot decide if he wants to shake Merlin’s hand, punch him or throw him in the stocks. He cannot do any of which until they get Merlin back. 

So they get Merlin back, that’s his decision. The choice is made over a matter of seconds as these thoughts fly past him. He wonders, if really that was what he was going to do all along. He cannot envision a world without Merlin. It seems wrong. 

Gwen’s hand has reached across the table, and he takes it in his own as he opens his mouth to speak. “We have to figure out how to get him back. We get him back and then we can decide what we do with him,” and as much as it sounds like a threat, there’s no malice in Arthur’s voice. Gwen nods, and they finish breakfast - Arthur eventually finishing the apple - once more in a calm quiet.

Once they finish, Arthur rises with a look of determination on his face. 

“We need to figure out what exactly is going on, and what we’re going to do about it,” he begins, and Gwen nods. 

“First though, don’t you think we should gather the knights? Even if we aren’t telling everyone what’s going on, we’ll need help - and they care for Merlin just as much as we do,” she asks, one hand gesturing to the door. “I figure they should return soon, if we have them come straight to the great hall?” Arthur shakes his head, waving an arm in disagreement.

“That’s too public, there are servants everywhere. We’ll have them come to Gaius’ chambers - we’ll go there now - he’s sure to have some advice,” he says with confidence. He doesn’t add the _I hope_ that hid behind it. He doesn’t add that he has a doubts in his mind that this is all still a joke, isn’t sure he really believes this is all true.

 

* * *

 

Seeing Merlin’s body again, though, makes it all too real. Arthur’s heart plummets as Gaius bids them enter the room, as Merlin still lies on the table. He has been cleaned though, the blood wiped from his hands, chest and face, a new red shirt covering the wounds underneath. Arthur thinks it is such a cliché, but he does seem peaceful. His face cleansed of the grooves in his brow and the frown that was becoming such an unsettlingly frequent occurrence was gone. He tears his eyes from Merlin’s body, as Gwen does too and they take seats opposite Gaius whose eyes seem dull and dark, as though he has had little sleep.

“I know,” Arthur begins, after Gaius was silent for a moment. Gaius’ lips pull into an unreadable expression, and he nodded, as if prompting Arthur to continue. 

“I know about Merlin’s-” he wills his voice to stay steady, and by some miracle, it does “-magic. I know about that, and that he’s… not really gone?” the sentence running away from him and turning into a question, almost a plea. Gaius raises an eyebrow, and despite the fact he has no power over Arthur at all, the King suddenly feels ten years old again, like he’s getting a lecture on patience as Gaius bandages up a bloody arm. 

“I’m not…” he begins again, but it is hard to find the words he needs to express his feelings, when he wasn’t exactly sure himself how he felt. “I don’t think I’m angry about it. At Merlin, yes… but the magic. If it-” he paused and ran a hand over his face. This was so frustrating. He just wanted to ignore it all, but as King, what attitude was that? He thought for a moment. Break the problem down into steps, and then it won’t seem so big. What was the first thing he needed to do? _I need Merlin back_ the thought was loud and fast. So be it. 

“Can the magic bring him back?” he asked. Gaius watches him for a moment, and he feels Gwen reach out to squeeze his shoulder. Then the older man’s face widens into a smile - not a big one, but a smile nonetheless. “Yes sire, I do believe it can. Though how, I am not exactly sure,” he says, and he rises from his chair, and nods towards Merlin’s body, asking them to follow. 

“I began researching after you left, sire, and I believe I know how this happened - but as to reversing it, I have yet to discover.” As they stand around Merlin, Arthur is aware of the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly, the odd feeling that he is being watched. As he listens to Gaius, and his eyes trace the unmoving body before him, another wave of eeriness floods him. Somehow, this is different to standing over his father’s body. That had been cold, sombre, quiet. Despite the circumstances, the room feels light and there’s an almost silent hum running through the air. 

Arthur watches Gaius’ hand as it pulls gently at Merlin’s shirt. Though he feels he shouldprotest he bites down his words. Gaius knows best here. When the shirt rises, pulled back to expose Merlin’s stomach, Arthur’s jaw drops slightly, and Gwen gasps. 

Where only the day before there had been slashes and slices all over Merlin’s body - large enough to expose more than Arthur had ever seen inside the body - the wounds were smaller now, closed up and clean of blood. 

“I went to clean him not long after you returned, thinking I should suture the cuts, but they had already closed. It’s happened to all his injuries,” Gaius adds, and proceeds to show them the bruised, but no longer broken arm, the cuts turned to scrapes on his head and the raw markings of shackles around his wrists that had been blistering the day before. As Gaius smooths Merlin’s clothes out once again, he begins to explain some of what he has read.

“There are spells, rare spells, that have to power to keep a spirit tied to the world of the living, after the body has died. By attaching one’s spirit onto something else in the moments before death, one can stay linked into the human world, which is why Merlin is still here, and why his body has not begun to... deteriorate, rather the opposite,” he says with a wave around their heads “I believe it is also how he is able to continue to talk to - through, us,” he said, giving Gwen a nod. She nods back, but her hands still worry at a loose thread on her dress. 

“So how do we reverse it?” she asks, knowing she isn’t going to like the answer she receives. 

“I don’t know, my lady. Unfortunately the spell has been cast so few times that there are scarcely any records of it, let alone successful reversals. It takes an enormous amount of power to remove one’s soul from the body, I imagine it would take just as much to put it back. Even if we had that much power, we don’t know where his soul even attached,” Gaius finished, and he sighs so quietly, Arthur isn’t sure he even sighed at all. He watches the older man’s hand clutch at the shirt on the boys chest so tight, as if he can pull him back simply with brute force. 

The image of it for a moment seems so familiar, a hand grasping red fabric as if the world depends on it. Lightening strikes, and the odd feeling, the buzz, returns, his heart quickening. 

“He held me!” the words escape before he really thinks about it, and in an unking-like mess of words he describes the way Merlin had found purchase on his chest as the golden light had exploded around them 

“Could that mean that…” and Gaius’ is already nodding, Gwen has that hopeful look in her eyes and Arthur finds his heart racing even faster, as if it knows they’re on the right track. As if it knows there is another spirit within it, one that longs to return to the empty body that lies so close. They are one step closer now, they have to be, and it sparks hope in them anew, and Gaius wastes no time in pulling more books down from shelves. He hands them to the King and Queen, and they both marvel at the books in their hands - books they never would have believed existed. 

As the old man directs them towards where to look, Arthur forgets for the time that Uther would condemn him for holding such tomes. As the only thought on his mind becomes bringing Merlin back, the path they take seems irrelevant. Magic, and all that it entails, can - _will_ \- bring Merlin back. Once he has his manservant -  _best friend -_ back, they’ll sit and discuss magic, and Arthur will throw something at Merlin, Merlin will probably cry and say something about him being a prat, and then they’ll have one of those rare quiet moments and everything will be okay. Once Merlin is back, everything will be right. 

Somewhere in the midst of the musings, epiphanies and excited noise, Merlin found himself present once more in his mentor’s room, and this time he smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta da! I hope that was good? Not much Merlin here I'm sorry, but I felt like we actually needed to move the plot along a bit. And if the spell does seem a bit familiar, I'm working on the premise that this universe and the Potter one are one and the same - think of this as the predecessor of the Horcrux! I always assumed magic evolved over time anyways, so maybe Horcruxes weren't always 100% dark magic? 
> 
> (it also gave me an excuse to use a wizarding idiom for a chapter title rather than a Muggle one)
> 
> Anyways, if you have any comments or tips or anything, especially on keeping on top of writing, I would love to hear them, they always make me smile :D


	9. Penny for Your Thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boyo it's been so long. I'm really sorry if anyone was waiting for this, but life got hectic and then whenever I came to write this, I just wasn't feeling it? So many apologies, but I come bearing like 2000 odd words, it's not much but it was a nice place to end the chapter. I have a feeling there will only be one more chapter to this? I kinda know how I want it to end, we'll see though, because whenever I write, it always deviates completely from my plan. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this!

“This is getting us nowhere,” Arthur growls as he slams the cover of another book closed. Gaius raises an eyebrow at him, and his hand pats the worn cover as though apologising. It does nothing to change his mood now though. Hours of searching through books, half the time having no idea what he’s looking for, has left him irritable. He found staying indoors tedious enough on royal duties, but when he couldn’t understand, let along read, most of what sat in front of him it made him want to scream. Gwen looks across at him from behind a piles of papers and her eyes are tired too. It’s hard to believe they have only been reading for a few hours at most. 

“Sire, we have found some information that may be of use,” Gaius says without looking back up from the book currently in his hands. Arthur’s eyes fall to the only orangised part of the desk - three books, with small ribbon indication a certain passage. He huffs. 

“Oh yes, of course - two mentions of half a spell, and a note on how it went horribly wrong for the last poor sod to try it! A great help,” he says, rising from his seat. Gaius shakes his head in response, and Gwen just turns back to the page she was turning.The restlessness turns to annoyance, which churns at the kings stomach. It winds its way around him, pounding through his veins. His legs march over the tiles, hands balling into fists. His feet on the floor are the only sound from in the room, bar the noises floating upwards from the citadel. It is quiet.

_Too quiet_ Arthur thinks to himself, and the annoyance in him swells into full blown anger. His hands lift almost of their own accord and slam down on the table. Both Gwen and Gaius jump at the noise, but Gwen the lets out a small shriek as the books on the table are suddenly swept up in a gust of air. Papers flutter from pages and books fall from shelves.

For a second, while it all hangs in the space between them, the king and queen catch eyes. The noise that escapes Gwen’s lips this time is little more than a choked cry as she stares into the golden eyes of her king. 

Then as soon as it had started, everything stops. There are a handful of thuds as books drop from where they had hovered. 

Arthur stands, shaking somewhat at the surge of power he felt surge through his body. Then he shivers again, as suddenly he looses all control of his body once more, this time his lips open of their own accord and he feels his eyebrows quirk up and the Merlin’s laugh falls from his mouth. 

“Nice one, you prat. You’re gonna have to clean that you know?” he says, reeling slightly at the bizarre nature of having someone else speak through him. Gaius and Gwen stare at him, and both look as though they may laugh, and Arthur thinks he might too, because it’s Merlin, that’s so Merlin, and he’s here, in… in him. It’s peculiar, but he can sense Merlin, he can feel him hovering in his chest, the whispers of a hand hovering over his own, a voice quietly humming in his mind that is so undoubtably him. He’s quiet, and doesn’t realise that maybe this is Merlin giving him a chance to respond. 

Merlin finds himself nestled in the king’s head, pulled in by the gust of magic that decorated the room with paper. This is different though, he thinks, from when he spoke to Gwen. With her, it was an effort, it took so much power to speak even a few words. Now, sharing a mind with Arthur, he couldn’t feel more comfortable. He would laugh if he could ‘ _It’s because it’s so empty in his head ha,’_ and then he hears Arthur’s voice

“Oi, shut up. You might be dead, but you’re still my manservant,” he says, and there’s that normal, easy banter already between them. Merlin wants to laugh again, when Gaius and the queen gasp slightly and Arthur has to look sheepish and point to his head.

“I uh… Merlin’s in here. I canuh… hear him? He’s being an idiot,” he said, rubbing a small circle on his forehead. 

‘ _Or you’re going mad?’_ Merlin offers. Arthur scoffs. 

“I’m not-“ he goes to say, then shakes his head as Gwen starts laughing. Her eyes shine as she tries to hide the laugh behind a cough, and even Gaius is bitting his lip to stop himself chuckling. Arthur shrugs and slumps in his seat again.

“Merlin, they’re laughing at me,” he pouts, and at that Gwen laughs harder. 

“ _I think they’re laughing at us,’_ Merlin says to Arthur and he can feel the smile that comes with that. Gwen’s laugh slips away and she smiles. 

“I’m laughing at both of you. It’s like Merlin never left,” she says, and she looks upwards, as if to find Merlin lingering somewhere. Merlin steps forward in Arthur’s mind and speaks again. 

“I’m in here, Gwen,” he says with an awkward wave of his hand. It’s odd, seeing Arthur’s hands, his whole body, moving as Merlin does. The two of them, combined in one body. Gaius feels a sense of something he cannot quite name run through him as he watches. Kilgharrah was right, two sides of the same coin. They are two halves of a whole. Maybe it’s magic that ran through the old man. This body - Arthur and Merlin together - is magic and power combined. Whoever they have become exudes power, he can feel the thrum of Merlin’s power standing even this far, and feel the confidence and power that Arthur overflows with filling the room. He smiles to himself, as he watches the king and warlock continue their playful banter out loud, seamlessly switching voices. Had anyone pressed an ear to the door they would have assumed the two of them were bickering as usual. Normal, now there’s a word that hasn’t had much use recently. 

The man’s hand rests on yet another book, but he doesn’t open it just yet. They deserve a little break he thinks, after all, it seems the two of them have an eternity stuck with each other. Another few minutes in the same head won’t hurt them. There will be time for seriousness and handwork later, when the knights return, when they have to figure out how to get Merlin back into this plane of existence. Let them have some time, just being themselves Gaius thinks. 

* * *

Some hours have passed, and the laughter has died down somewhat. Gwen has left to attend a meeting that Arthur should be at, but he’s claiming a headache (because Merlin, he argues, is the biggest headache of all, so it’s not a lie) and sickness, and Gaius has duties to attend.

So Arthur sits, still in Gaius’ chambers, because he cannot quite pull himself from Merlin, the Merlin in the real world that lies unmoving, not breathing but still somehow living. He doesn’t speak, he has no need to because Merlin has made himself at home in a corner of his mind and now they are alone, they can talk. It’s not really talking though, it’s an odd kind of mutual understanding. As though their minds are full of doors, and behind every door is a thought and a memory, a whole story. Some, they have thrown wide open, chuckling at the memories of one particularly enjoyable training session that they share. Some are open, but new to each other - Merlin’s memories of the rabbit he had adopted as a sort-of pet when he was young, and Arthur’s first time riding a horse, and they talk fondly of these, sharing these new stories that they never had the time to before. Arthur’s sure it isn’t proper for a King and a servant to be so casual and, well intimate with their memories, but Merlin was never really proper, and to be honest, neither was he. It was nice to know more about Merlin - about his friend. 

Some of their doors though are locked tight and Arthur notes, with a pang of worry that Merlin has far more locks than he does, and he wants to push at them, but Merlin’s thoughts turn quiet and he cannot bear the sadness that sweeps through their shared headspace. Merlin tries to smile, and he picks out one door, one with a lock that looks slightly broken and he asks Arthur shyly if he wants to see his magic, if that’s okay and Arthur has to say yes, because so what he has magic? This is the most open Merlin has ever been, and right now magic is what they need to bring Merlin back so yes, please. There’s anger simmering somewhere in the depths of Arthur’s mind, maybe Merlin can sense it and that’s why he’s being so shy about it, but Arthur pushes it back, kicks in under a cupboard and asks once more if Merlin will open the door. 

It falls open and Arthur watches memories of Merlin as a child playing with golden birds, or a teenage Merlin who can make flowers grow at whim for his mother. A Merlin from only a few years ago trying to call a dog out from a statue. Arthur watches, fascinated by the harmless magic Merlin is doing here, in awe of what can only be called beauty when he makes figures dance in flames. For a moment Arthur cannot breathe.

Then the door falls shut in a gust of wind and Merlin asks, in a voice so quiet he almost misses it, if they can stop now. 

‘Of course Merlin, of course’ he thinks and it is quiet in their little space for a while. 

Then Merlin speaks up. ‘ _Arthur? What if I can’t get back? What if we can’t fix this?’_ Arthur shakes his head, and he wishes he could see Merlin, the real Merlin, he wishes he were here so he could put out an arm and clap him on the back like they used to. 

‘ _I appreciate the sentiment,’_ Merlin adds softly, because of course they can hear each other all the time now. Instead, Arthur reaches out a hand to where Merlin’s body lies unmoving. His fingers glance over his shoulder, move to his cheek to hold his hand there for a second. 

“You’re so cold,” he says, not realising he has spoken aloud again. Merlin’s body looks so normal now though, as though he might only be sleeping. The blood has been washed away, there are no more cuts or scrapes. He mutters a quick apology to Merlin, who goes to stop him but not before his fingers reach for Merlin’s shirt, pulling it up to expose his stomach. 

A gasp breaks the eerie silence. 

Though the marks from this week have healed, skin pulled together and left unmarked the rest of Merlin is not. His stomach is littered with small scars, some that look years old, some that look quite new. Arthur shudders, and he can hear Merlin beg him not to ask, but he can’t not look now. He rolls up sleeves, the legs of his trousers and he turns Merlin to scan his back. There are scars everywhere, from his neck down to where he must have damaged his leg some time in recent history.

‘ _Arthur, please don’t ask I-‘_

“Merlin, who did this to you?” ‘ _It was an accident-‘_ “No, not all of them, impossible, Merlin this is an _order,_ tell me who did this to you!” 

‘ _NO!’_

There’s silence once more, and Arthur feels a tug somewhere in his chest as Merlin tries to slip out of this space. 

“Merlin please! Don’t run away? Fine…. fine don’t tell me, but please… don’t go,” he says, and his voice wavers again. He cannot help but fear that if Merlin leaves, he might be gone forever. The Merlin in his hands feels heavy, ladened down with the history of whatever caused these scars, but the Merlin in his head feels light and airy, like a slight wind might send him flying and Arthur will loose him forever. He can’t do that, he just can’t. 

Arthur doesn’t realise he’s crying into Merlin’s chest until he hears Merlin, so close he could be leaning over his shoulder.

‘ _Thank you…’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haaaaa what a load of bs. To be honest, this is all gonna end so cliche and dumb but to be honest when I started this, it was Merlin whump for myself - I'm so happy some of you guys have liked it too, so I hope you will be able to forgive me if the ending either (a) takes a while to actually get here or (b) is disappointing. I am no master at this art, but I hope you had fun with this at least! 
> 
> Lemme know if there are any glaring errors I have missed! Much love <3


	10. Not a Wink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT'S THIS, WHAT'S THIS THERE'S AN UPDATE?? 
> 
> I know I can't believe it either... I should be doing so many other things but at this point I just want to get this done! I know exactly how this is gonna go down so really it's a matter of getting time to write this down? Anyways, once again it's only under around 3000 words, I'm sorry it's not much but I hope it's something you can enjoy :D I have so much fun with this story!
> 
> ps this chapter gets a bit gay because one sided merthur is my life

By the time evening has come around, Arthur is back in his own quarters. He waits for Gwen as George lays the table for dinner before taking his position by the door. Arthur has his hand to his lip, held in thought as he stands by the window and watches over the citadel. He had been keeping one eye out for his knights, who had been out now for almost five nights. He half hopes they will not return until they had solved this, then maybe he would not risk being decapitated by Gwaine. Nonetheless, it felt odd to not have anyone to turn to - no Leon, Percival. No Lancelot. His stomach twists, at the thought of his fallen brother. 

‘ _He’s okay, Arthur,’_ Merlin thought, and it took Arthur a second to realise what he had said. They had managed to somewhat distance themselves, so that not every thought was out in the open - it had only taken ten minutes of “quiet” before Merlin had complained about hearing Arthur’s thoughts on what was for dinner, how cold it was tonight and all his other inner musings. Arthur stood slightly taller at Merlin’s interruption to his thoughts and it made George look over at him. 

He waves a hand with a tight smile that was to be expected from a grieving king. “You’re dismissed, George. Have a good night,” he says, and the man bows and bids him goodnight too. He slips through the door and Arthur lets out a breath. “You were saying?” he asks, wandering towards the table to take up a goblet. 

‘ _I’ve seen him,’_ he thinks, pausing for a second as if to let it sink in before continuing. ‘ _When we got back to Camelot, when I…. died?’_ Arthur feels his mouth go dry, and a lump appear in his throat. 

“You… you’ve seen him? Where?” he asks, and his heart begins to thrum faster as his brain begins making leaps already. He feels Merlin shrug almost, can see it in his minds eye they are so entwined now. 

‘ _There’s… a place? When you die, there’s somewhere you can go, I don’t know how to explain it but - he’s there,’_ The description isn’t much, and Arthur has more questions already. Merlin answers them without him even needing to ask. 

‘ _He’s happy, Arthur. He’s safe and happy, he,’_ and he hears Merlin chuckle (and while he is thinking through this new, life changing information, Arthur can’t help but marvel at the sound he never thought he would hear again) as he continues. ‘ _\- he has kids, a wife. They’re great, he’s doing great,’_ he says and then falls silent as he shows Arthur images of the other world. He doesn’t think for one minute that this might be wrong, showing Arthur what awaits them after death, because he has seen it and the two of them are one now, they share minds. They share everything - well, almost anything. 

While he ensures his deepest, darkest memories are under strict lock and key, Merlin thinks, he understands. They _are_ meant to be together through it all, they are supposed to live their lives entwined together. To usher in the new world side by side. They work the best together, as they do now, with memories and moments flowing between them with such ease. As Arthur asks about the other world and Merlin answers as best he can. They trade ideas and thoughts on where the other world is, on how to get there, and then Merlin senses the question that has been hovering for a while now. Arthur asks in a quiet voice where his father is. 

Merlin has no answer to that, and Arthur knows this already, because Merlin would have said something, but he still had to ask. The silence pains Arthur, but Merlin still shines somewhere, still offers a beacon of hope. His father is out there, somewhere. The though occurs to him that his father may be with his mother now, and he can smile at that at least. It’s something for him to hold onto.

As the minutes pass, Gwen arrives at the door and the king and queen take their seats for dinner. Merlin bids Arthur goodnight, and retreats to a tucked away corner, where he can avoid watching the royals enjoy their dinner - despite not having a physical body, the overflowing plates look delicious, and Merlin hasn’t eaten in days.

Days in which he was strung up and beaten within an inch of his life, he thinks and feeling uneasy as he recalls the time he spent chained to that wall. The unease grows when his mind turns to Morgana, how she is still out there and still plotting and she knows about his magic now. He can feel panic swelling, threatening to consume him completely but he can’t right now, he isn’t even sure one can experience panic without a pair of lungs but he doesn’t feel like trying it. So he thinks of Arthur instead, he thinks of happy things, of Gwen and the sun and flowers, happy things, happy things…

It works, sort of. Really, all he’s doing is tucking those problems away in a box to open later. In pushing on box to the side however, another has toppled over, and those _oh so happy_ thoughts all come spinning out. Thoughts of Arthur, of his face when he saw Merlin for the first time again. Arthur’s face, pressed against his while he begged him to save himself. Thoughts like those that trigger more though, this time of Arthur’s faced pressed to his but in content, thoughts Merlin knows aren’t real but he can’t help, just to imagine that Arthur had tilted his head ever so slightly more, so their lips might meet and his hand might curl in his hair and the king would whisper his na-

Dangerous thoughts, that’s what they were. Merlin snapped them away, shoved them far, far away and hoped that Arthur hadn’t snuck in behind him. That was not the type of ‘together’ Kilgharrah had meant. Merlin groaned to himself. The quicker he got out of Arthur’s head, the better. These were not the thoughts he should be having, least of all about the king. So he instead ignores all the thoughts that surround him, pushes every thought of Arthur’s face from his mind and retreats to somewhere quiet in this strange headspace. Ignoring the outside world he combs through every spell he knows, every magical theory he has read from Gaius’ books. While the king is eating dinner, having a light, easy conversation with his wife, Merlin continues to work hard, hidden away, behind the scenes. Just like he always does. 

* * *

It is later that evening, when the sun has fully set and the night watch has taken over, when the faint sound of movement outside the citadel can be heard. Arthur, sat in his chambers is splayed out on the bed, a book borrow from Gaius by his chin as he leafs through the pages again, knowing he won’t find anything useful on the fourth read through. Gwen is beside him, curled around the book she dropped hours ago. Maybe because he was looking for a distraction, he heard it earlier than usual, so at the sound of horses, the king shoots out of bed and presses his face to the window.

He can just about see through the darkness moonlight bouncing off armour, and with a deep breath he peels back from the window. The knights have returned, and on the one hand he’s glad they’re back. On the other-

‘ _They think I’m dead,’_ Merlin says and annoyingly, he sounds amused. ‘ _Well have fun trying to explain this one,’_ he adds with a snicker, and Arthur wishes he was here so he could whack him over the head with a boot. ‘I’m notletting you get out of this, you can do some explaining’ he retorts as he makes his way across his chambers to pull out a cloak. He buckles it around his neck and giving Gwen one last glance, slips into the halls. 

‘ _Oh yeah “Don’t worry guys, I found Merlin, he was being tortured by Morgana and he’s fine now, well no he’s dead and living inside my head!” I’m sure that’ll go down well,’_ Merlin responds and Arthur can feel the eye roll. He has to bite down the smile on his lips because Gwaine might punch him if he greets him with a grin - but truthfully, he is glad, he’s glad to know that being dead hasn’t changed his servant too much. As they (as Arthur has come to consider to his body now) wind through the corridors, Arthur tries to get merlin to agree to do the explaining, but the warlock insists it would be too weird for him to just greet the knights. Resigned, Arthur tries to school his face into something more serious they arrive at the steps of the castle. The knights are almost at them now, and Merlin slinks away into the shadows, leaving Arthur to do the hard work. 

There is so little movement in the courtyard tonight, barely a wind or a bird. As the knights move closer, he can pick their faces out in the dark, and wishes for a moment that he had brought a torch with him. There’s a sudden flicker, and a light from within the castle pools light onto the tops steps. Arthur hides his slight jolt, and he hears Merlin chuckle. 

‘ _Someone must’ve just lit them,’_ he says and there’s a grin to go with it, Arthur knows the one. Arthur turns to his men to find Gwaine already having disembarked. 

“Sire!” the man leaps up the steps, his usually cheery face stony. “You’ve returned - did you find him?” he says, and his hands are outstretched towards the kings shoulders, Arthur wonders if it’s to yank the answers out of him. He raises his own arm and Gwaine’s arms fall to his sides as he remembers his place, but Arthur doesn’t begrudge him that, he would have reacted just the same. He pauses for a second, unsure, and then gives one nod. Though there are small cheers from the rest of the group, Gwaine is still on edge, a hand now raking though his own hair as his eyes scan Arthur for anything more. 

“Is he-“ Arthur raises his other hand, and Gwaine stops. 

“I think you should come see for yourself. It’s hard to explain,” he says.

* * *

 

“So his body is in a coma?” Percival asks from his spot tucked in the corner. His large shoulders mean he has little room for movement, but there is hardly any room in Gaius’ chambers with the table, and all the men around them. Arthur stands by Merlin’s side, Gwaine beside him - Elyan stands beside Gaius, opposite them and Leon, torn between standing by his king or their fallen brother, stands by the head of the table. Not wanting to sit by the manservants feet, Percival tucked himself into the space behind them. 

Gaius shakes his head, fighting back a yawn. Though he is worried for his young friend, his surrogate son, it’s the early hours of the morning and his rest has been disturbed by the noisiest group of men in chainmail. He cannot blame them though, he knows Merlin is more than just a servant to all these men. 

“No, he’s… dead, for all I can tell. Only he isn’t… decomposing,” he says softly. Gwaine’s face still can’t settle on emotion, it cycles through happiness, anger and confusion endlessly. Arthur coughs, drawing all eyes to him. He looks into the faces of all his men one by one, before settling on Gwaine. 

“That’s not all,” he says, one hand reaching up to point to Merlin’s body. He sighs. 

“Merlin… Merlin had m-“ his voice wobbles and he curses himself, he thought he had enough control but he cannot help the smouldering embers of anger sparking slightly. inside him He swallows, hoping it will take away the unpleasant taste of the strange words in his mouth. 

“Magic. Merlin had - has - magic,” he manages. The quiet is broken by a few gasps, he hears Elyan curse under his breath and wonders if the knight shared his sisters suspicions. Gwaine though, is oddly silent, though his jaw is working overtime. Arthur looks to him for a response, only to find he is already looking at him expectantly. The knight asks first.

“So you’re going to let him die?” he asks, and Arthur can feel Merlin’s shudder. Arthur shakes his head. 

“No. Of course not. it’s Merlin. We’re going to get him back,” he says and though Leon looks confused he doesn’t question his king. Arthur is thankful for the unwavering loyaltybut continues anyways. He knows hismen have been raised under the same hatred for magic he has, but they have also been raised to follow their king, and when Arthur believes something is right, they follow. 

“I am angry,” he adds though, and that gets a nod from Leon. “Do not think I won’t have strong words with him once he’s back - but for lying to me. Not the magic. The magic… we need it to save him,” he says and the men around him all nod in unison. He turns to Gwaine and asks his question. 

“Did you know?” and Gwaine blinks. The knight shakes his head. “I think I could have pieced it together, but… he never told me,” and Arthur feels somewhat better. Knowing that Merlin had kept it from even Gwaine was something at least.“And I would never have hated him for it either, there’s nothing evil about magic, only-“ Gwaine starts to say, flinging accusing glances around the room to the rest of the knights. Arthur shuts him off with a hand on his shoulder but he only shrugs it off. 

“No, sire I’m sorry, but we _have_ to talk about it! None of these men believe you, do they? They might nod along and follow but sire, we all know what you think. You hate magic, you hate sorcerers, you hate it!” Gwaine’s movements become fast and jerky, as he starts pacing around the small space. “We can sit here and think up ways to get Merlin back but when that happens - if that happens!” he throws his arms up in the air, realising his voice has raised considerably. He softens it, and it’s gut wrenching to see the way he looks at Merlin’s body. Arthur doesn’t know why, but he is struck with a pang of jealousy at the sight of Gwaine’s outburst. He seems to care so much, could it be that he cares more for Merlin than he does? The jealousy makes his chest hurt, so he tries to shake it off. 

“If it happens, if we manage to save him things won’t be normal will they?” Nobody says anything, and Gwaine lets out a breath, a sigh of defeat. “You’ll all look at him differently,” he says, and after yet another bout of silence, he turns on his heel and heads for the door. 

“Gwaine!” That has him spinning on his feet, and almost tripping as Merlin’s voice echoes across the room. Suddenly all eyes are on Arthur, except Gwaine can see that it’s not Arthur, not with how he stands now - his shoulders pulled up slightly, one hand reaching out, fingers extended in desperation for him, eyes soft and full of wild emotion. 

“Merlin?” he says, stumbling closer. Arthur’s face softens and those eyes look calmer as a small smile appears on his face. In fact, it becomes a grin one of Merlin’s’ toothy grins that is followed by the man throwing his arms around Gwaine. Without hesitation Gwaine presses the king - Merlin? - to his chest and feels a laugh bubble up through his chest. 

“Hi Gwaine,” Merlin (yes that’s definitely Merlin, he’s sure of it) says as they separate. “I think we still have some explaining to do.”

* * *

After Merlin and Arthur fight their way through telling an abridged version of what happened while the search party was out and about, after they demonstrate the way in which this shared body works, they are both exhausted. Arthur’s shoulders sag and his eyes ache. The men around him look tired too, Percival is almost falling asleep on his stool, though he shakes himself awake whenever the two of them switch voices. Gaius shuffles to the centre of the room, pulling up a blanket that lies beside Merlin’s body. As he lays it over the boys body, he declares it far too late to be discussing magic and death and torture anymore and so orders the younger men to bed, physicians orders he reminds them.

By the time Arthur makes it back to his chambers, the sun is beginning to climb, daybreak only an hour away. He crashes into his pillow, eyes falling quickly shut and soon falls asleep to the sound of Merlin humming along to the birds outside their window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boOM 
> 
> another chapter done, I think maybe 2 more? Not sure, we'll see how it goes! I hope you've enjoyed this, once again, apologies for the wait. Life is really busy and kinda hard so fanfic is what I do for fun when I get time, I'm so sorry I don't have the ability to provide a more strict update schedule. Anyways, I hope this was good, and you enjoyed it - if you wanna leave a comment letting me know what you think of where the story is going that'd be awesome - but anyways, I love you guys <3
> 
> (Edit 10th March 2017 - I haven't forgotten this fic, and I promise I will return! Just so nobody thinks it's been abandoned <3)


	11. The Razor's Edge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What????? is this???? an update over a year later???? yES!!! wow
> 
> Honestly, thank you to whoever has stuck by this fic. It's been a jounry. There is still a short epilogue after this which I'm posting at the same time because I feel you've waited long enough. I hope this ending does the rest of this story justice. I like to think my writing has improved over time so maybe I'll come back and polish the entire thing some time but uni is about to get super hard (in my final year now!) but I guess that's why I came back to this. 
> 
> I have and will always love Merlin it was an amazing show. I love this fandom that has continued on and I love the fics from other awesome people that have inspired me to come back to this old thing. Thank you, again if you stuck with me, sorry it's been so very long. 
> 
> (also sorry for making this... mildly Harry Potter-y....)

Merlin fills the space by the window that overlooks the courtyard. Were he in possession of his body, he would be curled on the ledge, though he doubts even his slim frame would fit. Maybe being noncorporeal has its benefits. Other such advantages include the lack of hunger or thirst, so he is happy to sit for hours as he watches the sun climb. There is movement below as dawn breaks and the world begins to wake for another day. Something in the air, a warm feeling that has his consciousness buzzing tells him today will be a good day. 

Arthur will probably sleep in, and that always puts him in a good mood. Gwaine isn’t mad at him for keeping his magic a secret, in fact none of the knights seemed to be that angered. The anger Arthur had felt, well that was hard to face, but at the very least Merlin knew he wasn’t heading straight for the pyre. The only true blow to an otherwise optimistic day was the fact that they were no closer to discovering a way to undo the magic he had accidentally done. 

Casting his gaze to the sleeping king, Merlin decides to get an early start, and wills himself towards Gaius’ room. There, he can keep a watchful eye over his sleeping mentor, while he flicks through pages in the hopes of finding something. He rereads words that Arthur and Gaius have seen, pours over the papers Gwen was crawling through. Nothing new, nothing at all. Frustration fills his very being, his usually carefully tempered anger lashing out in one crack of magic. The book he looks over slams shut, and the papers beside it flutter down.

Despite the noise, Gaius remains asleep on his cot beside the fire, so with carefully angled spells, Merlin guides the notes back onto the table. Arthur’s careful handwriting stares back at him, elegant curves that seem at odds with the loud and boisterous king. Of course, royally educated, Arthur _would_ have a regal hand. It’s almost laughable to compare Arthur’s notes to those Merlin writes in margins and on scraps of paper; hurried, sprawling letters that shout ‘common as muck’. Even in the smallest of things, they are opposites.

Willing away the sudden wave of emotions Arthur’s writing has caused, Merlin focuses on the content of the notes, his mind stuck on one word, one name - _Herpo._ He cannot help but think he knows the name from somewhere, and the story of the spell he cast that ripped his soul apart. If the hunch Merlin is forming is right, and he is unsure if he wants it to be, then the man in question - a man from a far off part of the world many years ago - was unheard of after the spell was cast.

Still, a lead is a lead, and it sends Merlin scouring the shelves for the book he knows mentions the name, he’s sure he has seen it somewhere. His search leads him across the room, to Gaius’ highest shelves and down into the hidden spaces that hide the most treasonous books. Time slips away as he reads, marked in the soft rustles of paper and Gaius’ snores. Eventually, the sun has risen fully, and his guardian rises. The old man is unbothered by the pages that seem to be turning themselves, only smiles over at the space.

“You’ll wake up early to read Merlin, yet when I ask you to fetch me water of a morning…” he trails off with a chuckle, and in response Merlin flicks at the empty bucket by the fire. A small splash later and it’s brimming with water. Gaius scoffs, and waves a warning finger in his general direction as he reaches for a tankard. 

“Be careful my boy, just because Arthur knows about your magic-” Merlin flicks the bucket again and sends a small splash at Gaius. He glares for a moment, but it is lessened by the small laugh that accompanies it. They continue around each other in a comfortable silence, Gaius preparing for the day while Merlin flicks through more pages. The older man glances back over to where Merlin must be and smiles as he watches another book slide from the shelf of its own accord. Pages turn lazily as it hovers, and then suddenly there is an almighty thud, and the book drops. Gaius shuffles over as fast as he can, Merlin’s impatience showing in the constant shaking of the page. He peers over the page, scanning it for whatever Merlin has found.

There, tucked away on a back page of a book that hadn’t been touched in years, the name Herpo appeared once again. This time it was followed by a short description of the man, famed for his dark magic. By committing an act of terrible evil he had fractured his soul, allowing him to live on outside of his body. The fragment, if captured was thought to be destroyed by an equally dark act.

Merlin read the words over and over again, hope and fear mingling, making him restless. Without even realising he finds himself in Arthur’s chambers, the king still asleep, one arm curled around Gwen. Amidst the frenzied mix of feelings, a pang of jealousy strikes him. He urges the thought away, instead focusing on finding something to wake Arthur up with. The goblet from the other night still rests on the table, so he pushes at it. It falls and lands with a clatter that has Arthur almost falling from the bed in a panic.

His eyes scan the room wildly and as Gwen slowly sits up in bed he scrambles to his feet. He rights himself as the goblet comes to rest by his feet and then there’s a smile on his lips because somehow, the damned thing rolls almost with attitude. He can almost hear Merlin in it’s clatter, the sound of him pulling open curtains and calling out some painfully energetic greeting.

He picks it up and rolls his eyes.

“Okay, we’re up-” Merlin uses Arthur’s voice to let Gwen in on everything too, cutting off the king.

“I think we’ve found something. Come to Gaius’ study,” he says, and Arthur is already in motion.

* * *

When the pair stumble through Gaius’ chambers, the older man is already pulling out papers and bottles, hurrying around the table at a speed Arthur has never seen him move at. Merlin lets Gaius explain, far too on edge to work his way back into Arthur’s mind. He isn’t sure Arthur’s body could take the crackling energy of two hopeful souls at once. His distinct lack of body means he can both listen to the hurried talk and continue to read at once. Though he is sure he has been through every book on the shelf, now he knows what he’s looking for, knows the name to look out for, he wants to check they have all the information they can. There’s an idea, already forming as he reads about magic fuelled by feeling, ones fuelled by acts of passion. Maybe, just maybe this will all work out.

By the table, trying not to look at the unmoving body of his best friend, or the books floating beside them, Arthur listens too. The spell Gaius describes, ripping apart ones soul in an act of evil sounds horrific - and nothing like the spell Merlin cast.

“It’s all well and good, but Merlin didn’t do anything evil, did he?” He frowns, but Gwen turns to him with a fire in her eyes.

“But he did something great didn’t he? Only, instead of being cast with darkness, it was cast with light. With good feelings and lo-” she suddenly stops short, and her cheeks warm. Her eyes drift to where Merlin’s body lies, in lieu of the man himself, and Gaius seems to understand too, though apparently whatever Gwen has just discovered is not news to the older man.

Arthur looks at her expectantly, arms crossing over his chest.

“With what?” he asks, confused. The queen and physician share a somewhat sad look between them

“Love, Arthur.” His wife says, and when she looks at him there are tears in her eyes. Suddenly, the books Merlin had been flicking through stop, and somehow Arthur can tell he’s gone, left the room. The buzz from before has vanished. Arthur doesn’t quite understand. He steps closer to Gwen and places a gentle hand on her cheek.

When she speaks, she’s barely whispering.

“Merlin was in your arms when he cast the spell, wasn’t he?” Arthur pales, not wanting to remember the moment Merlin died in his arms, but Gwen pushes nonetheless. Gaius, he notices from the corner of his eye, has shuffled into the next room, giving them some privacy. It puts the king even more on edge.

“What did he say?” Gwen asks. Arthur tries to turn away, but she pulls his face towards her, eyes glistening.

“He… nothing. I… I just… I held him, and I-I told him-” he takes a shuddering breath.

“I told him he couldn’t leave me, I wouldn’t let him. I told him to do anything to stay, he had to stay for me.” The tears are falling now, heavy drops onto Gwen’s head as he pulls her close for a hug. Strong arms wrap around his waist and she holds him so carefully, so tenderly.

“Gwen, he can’t be- we can’t lose him. I can’t lose him.” She reaches up and presses a kiss to his cheek.

“Then, I think.. You need to tell him that.” Arthur pulls back, eyes narrowed as he wipes away the tears.

“We don’t have the magic though, Merlin is the one-” Gwen cuts him off as ideas begin forming, and the two begin theorising, thoughts flowing between them in synchronisation.

“You used magic earlier though-”

“If Merlin could do that again, do you think we would be able to fix this?” Arthur doesn’t want to let hope blossom in his chest again, but Gwen looks hopeful already and he cannot help the swell of his heart. Merlin’s voice slips into his mind once more, and Arthur can picture the grin already.

_‘It might just work’_

* * *

They prepare as much as they can. Merlin looks for healing spells, incantations they might need. Gwen has gone to collect herbs for Gaius, who is planning on mixing them into solutions for Merlin when he wakes, to make up for the missed meals he has missed out on. Arthur paces, trying to wrap his lips around the ancient languages Merlin is teaching him. He struggles, and Merlin calls him a clotpole on multiple occasions but by the time the sun has begun to set, he has managed to say them all nearly exactly how Merlin did.

There’s a moment where all three people in the room come to a stop, and they realised that the time is now. Gwen hurries to Merlin’s side, a hand running through his hair to smooth it down. Gaius lines up his tinctures at the table beside Merlin’s head, and Arthur takes his place beside the fallen manservant. He glances at both of them, then nods. He lets his hands sit atop Merlin’s chest, trying not to let the stillness shake his resolve.

“ **Ic þe þurhhæle þin licsare.** ” There’s a flash of warmth behind his eyes and a tingle in his fingers, but nothing changes. His resolve trembles and he lifts his hands when Gaius speaks.

“Sire, do not despair just yet. There are many healing spells, one may work.” He nods, repositioning his fingers. So he tries again. And again. And again. He tries the first spell, then the second again. He tries combining them. He tries lets Merlin take over, let’s the words come out in his voice instead. They try together, both voices at once, again and again until Arthur’s voice cracks and he staggers backwards.

Gaius pushes him into a chair and Gwen wraps her hands around his and Arthur cannot bare to look into her eyes. He pulls his hands free and buries his head in them.

“Why… why can’t,” he sighs. He looks up and finds Gaius looking at him with a sad smile.

“What are we doing wrong?” he asks, lost. The room is silent, far too silent. Arthur can feel Merlin still, somewhere in his head, but he’s fallen quite, as if their attempts have drained him.

Then Gwen speaks up.

“Perhaps we’re missing something…” she says with slow realisation dawning on her features.

“What do you mean?”

“If this spell,” she says, indicating to the book beside them. “Requires an act of evil, pure hatred to perform it, and another dark act to reverse it…”

Before she can continue, Merlin has snapped back into his head, only every one of the shared doorways is now shut. He answers aloud, sounding rather distant somehow.

“If it was fuelled by love then we’ll need love to undo it, you clotpole.” There’s no heat in Merlin’s words, and he slips from Arthur’s mindscape as quickly as he came, taking with him any hint Arthur had of his thoughts.

“Well, yes, if it is indeed the same spell as this one,” he says, tapping the book on the desk. Still, Gaius and Gwen look as though they’re keeping something from the king and it makes him huff.

“What?” he asks, eyes darting between the two. “What am I missing here?”

Suddenly, Arthur realises. Gwen’s eyes are sad as she nods. The idea makes Arthur’s cheeks flush and he isn't sure why. He doesn’t even really understand, but apparently Gaius does, and so does Merlin. Both suddenly withdraw, Merlin so that he’s nothing more than a low hum in his mind, Gaius to his desk in the corner.

Gwen regards him for another moment, and then schools her face into a small smile.

“I think, maybe… you two needs some time alone,” she says, standing and straightening out her skirts. She looks over at Gaius who nods.

“Of course my Queen.”

His wife, graceful as ever presses a kiss to Merlin’s temple before she leaves.

* * *

The room has fallen dark now. Moonlight cuts through the room and illuminates a path across Merlin’s chest, right across his heart. Arthur stares at it, wonders if he stares long enough it will start it beating again. Fear makes his own heart pound.

“I don’t know how to do this Merlin,” his voice shakes, and he feels less of a king than he ever has. He tries to collect his thoughts, compose himself, but everything just keeps swirling through his mind, uncontrollable. This _should_ be easy, it should just be a snap of the fingers, it should happen like magic - it _is_ magic after all. Yet it’s as though his father is standing over him because the very idea of actually performing magic is horrific. Maybe that is what’s stopping any of this working.

But this is Merlin, he scolds himself. His Merlin, his best friend, his most loyal companion. His most loyal, _lying_ companion, a wicked voice whispers.The anger flares in him again, but the sight of Merlin’s sunken cheeks knocks it out instantly.  He has never felt such conflicting emotions, and it floors him. He has no one to turn to, because it was always Merlin he would turn to, and right now he’s not here. He’s shut off the connection they share, slammed the doors down and taken off somewhere. Arthur isn’t even sure he’s present in the room, and somehow the thought he isn’t makes the loss feel even more poignant.

Arthur realises with a sharp jab of pain that this is what it would be like if Merlin were dead and lost to him forever. This is what it will be like if he can’t pluck up the courage or strength to do this. That’s the final straw.

With a choked sob he falls forward, hands balling at Merlin’s shirt. There are fat tears rolling down his face, pathetic sobs escaping him.

“I can’t do this Merlin,” he gasps, every bit of hurt in his heart evident in his words. “I can’t, I’m not - I can’t do it!”

_‘It’s okay Arthur’_

The kings head snaps up. “Merlin?” The warlock’s presence is there ever so slightly, like he’s standing in the doorway.

_‘It’s okay’_ he says again, in that voice Arthur hates because it makes Melin sound far too old and wise for his years, makes Arthur feel like a child.

_‘It was a lot to ask, the magic, it’s… it’s not easy. I understand.’_

Arthur really doesn’t like where this is going, suddenly everything feels like it’s tumbling out of control. Merlin’s presence is fading, no matter how much Arthur scrambles to keep ahold of it. He feels his heart bang against his chest, it roars in his ears. Merlin’s magic, his power, is slipping from him with every second.

_‘It’s okay Arthur, breathe… You can let me go now’_

Arthur screams, he can’t help it, the words come out before he can think about it.

“Merlin, no! You can’t, damnit I need you! I love yo-”  

Blinding light illuminates the room. Something explodes over Merlin’s body, a wave of power that sends Arthur into the wall. With an almighty snap the link between them is broken and Arthur feels one second of fear before he connects with stone and slumps to the floor. When the light fades, he struggles to sit up, ears ringing and eyes watering. His own words fill him.

_I love you I love you I love you_

He’s standing by Merlin’s bedside before he realises it, staring down at the face he realises he would travel to the end of the earth for, he would die for, he would do anything for Merlin.

Then Merlin’s chest heaves, and the moment of realisation is gone. Instead, Arthur bellows Gaius’ name. The sound of hurried footsteps is instantaneous but insignificant. Merlin groans, his head falls to one side, his nose wrinkles for a second and his cheeks flush. He’s alive.


	12. And To This End

They talk after, they have to; about the magic, about Morgana, about Gwen and the words Arthur had said. It needs to be talked about, they have to stop burying their heads in the sand, but first they just have to breathe. The entire castle seemed to have been holding its breath, all of Camelot on edge, and the moment Merlin had taken another breath, so did the castle. So did Arthur, and Gwen and Gaius and all of them.

Like a door had been swung open, a blanket pulled from above them, the sun finally breaking through the clouds, they could just _be_ for a moment.

Gaius had burst through the doors not a minute after Arthur had called him, moving at a surprising speed to crush Merlin’s hand in his berating him for terrifying him like that. His hands went to Merlin’s face then to his heart, checking to make sure he was back, Gwen behind him, insistent on doing the same.

Arthur sits back, lets them fawn over Merlin who sleeps the whole time. There will be time to talk later, he knows but not now, not when he can barely keep his eyes open. He tries to bite back a yawn, but he must let it slip because he sees Gwen turn to ask him something, but before she does, his head drops and he falls fast asleep.

* * *

“Upsy daisy,” comes the wakeup call. Arthur groans.

“Piss off Merlin.” He rolls over, burying his head deeper into the pillow, sleep still trying to keep him under its spell.

“That’s a nice way to greet your dead manservant, you prat.”

The spell abruptly shatters, and Arthur swings up so fast, he launches himself to the floor. Merlin’s laughter surrounds him as he picks himself up, glancing around with surprise to find himself still in Gaius’ chamber. Apparently he had been shoved into the small spare cot, which explained the slight miscalculation as he got out of bed. Righting himself he fixes Merlin, who has been propped up on a mountain of pillows, with a stern look.

It made the warlock freeze suddenly, and Arthur realises what he must have thought with a jolt. Unable to resist just a little teasing he waved a finger at him in the most obnoxiously royal manner.

“If you ever do that to me again Merlin…” he said slowly, walking between their beds towards him. Then he throws his arms around him and pulls him into the tightest hold possible.

“I’ll have you in the stocks for a month.” Those words come out softer, much softer, whispered almost into Merlin’s hair. The warlock’s hands wrap around his waist and it sends sparks up the king’s spine.

“I’ll try my best,” Merlin responds, somewhat muffled with his face is buried in Arthur’s chest. Arthur can’t help the smile tugging on his lips. This is how it should be, how they have always been, and how he knows they will always be.

There are countless things still to be done, there are people to find and people to tell, beds to be made and food to be shared. Discussions to be had, and maybe laws to be changed. It will all come, soon. But in this moment, Arthur can forget it all.

He has Merlin, and Merlin has him, and right here, right now, that is more than enough.

* * *

[ _'Who can say if I've been changed for the better, but because I knew you_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TZ0pXUb5jVU)

[ _I have been changed for good '_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TZ0pXUb5jVU)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope this wasn't a cop out here. I know there are things left unsaid - what's up with Morgana? Will Merlin and Arthur sort out their complicated feelings? What will Gwen do with all her feelings now she realises Arthur loves Merlin? (answer, she's a lesbian and she's gonna get a gf, it will be wonderful okay) 
> 
> but I felt none of that really fit in? This story needed a happy ending. Of course they would still need to sort things, they would need to adjust to life but they also need just to escape for a while. To be happy for juuuuust a bit. Then the angst happens. 
> 
> Thank you again if you've been here this whole time, I can't thank you enough <3


End file.
